


Aeipathy

by aiya_jakga



Series: Schrodinger's Betrayel [2]
Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2020-07-23 15:37:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 20,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20010694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aiya_jakga/pseuds/aiya_jakga
Summary: Aeipathy - a continued love or passionWhen it comes down to it, Curt can't kill Owen. He just can't. And Owen could never really hate him. Follow our two sad boys (tm) as they figure out where they stand with each other.Tags will be updated as the story continues because honestly I don't have a clue.





	1. Chapter 1

Curt looks at Owen, trembling before him. Back when they’d been partners, Curt had almost prided himself on knowing his partner better than anyone else, and even now something about this whole situation did not sit right by him.

In an instant, he made a decision.

Jerking his gun downwards, he fired two rounds in Owen knees, crippling him. Owen collapsed backwards on the staircase, gasping.

“Don’t say a fucking word,” Curt growled, “or the next round goes in your head.” Owen swallowed audibly before nodding, wide-eyed. He tried to push himself into an upright position but fell back with a whimper.

Curt just stood there, staring at what used to be the most important person in his life, reduced to a shaken mess sprawled across a staircase. Honestly, Owen was still probably the most important person his life, but damn him to hell if he admitted it to the man.

Perhaps he was weak, unable to convince himself to shoot him despite knowing all he’d done. But if that made him weak, then he didn’t think he wanted to be strong.

His communicator beeped.

“Curt? Curt! Are you there? Curt?!”

Owen sighed. “Yes, Barb, I’m here.”

“Oh, good! I was worried! Have you found-”

“Look, Barb, I’m gonna have to call you back. I’m fine though.”

He pulled his earpiece out and took in Owen in front of him; he was beginning to look a little pale. Owen chewed his lip and knelt down, snapping his fingers in front of his face. Owen blinked sluggishly before closing his eyes completely.

Curt groaned, before picking Owen up in a fireman’s carry. He was lighter than he remembered him being, and Curt definitely wasn’t as a strong as he’d been four years ago, but he didn’t dwell on that thought for more than a moment.

Glad he’d brought a car and not a motorbike, Curt stumbled out of the museum, dropped Owen unceremoniously into the boot and grabbed the first aid kit. He realised now that shooting him in the knees from such close quarters probably wasn’t his smartest moment seeing as both bullets had gone straight through and Owen was still bleeding profusely onto the carpeted interior.

This wasn’t exactly a sterile environment, but it’s not like they hadn’t stitched each other up before, and in worse places too. And, anyway, how do you call an ambulance on a fugitive? That’d go great. Regretting all his life decisions already, Curt grabbed the needle and thread before getting to work.

If Owen didn’t survive after all this effort, he was going to punch something. Preferably someone working for Chimera, but honestly he wasn’t particularly fussed.

Finally, he was satisfied with his effort and closed the boot over Owen before sliding into the driver’s seat. He’d need to head somewhere he could look after Owen without worrying people would find him. And so he could question him, of course.

Looks like he was visiting his mother again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is just a short first chapter. I honestly don't have much of a clue where this is going, this is basically just Mendacity (not sad).  
> I have a few things I know I want to include, and you'll find out why Owen did everything he did, but other than that this is an adventure for all of us.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Mega to the rescue, Curt is still sad, and Owen actually gets to talk.

Mrs. Mega had taken one look at Owen thrown over Curt’s shoulder and started fussing. After Curt attempted to dump him on the sofa, she huffed and carried him into the spare bedroom herself, banning Curt from the room and telling him to “at least shower so you look half-way decent.” It’d been about an hour since then and Curt still wasn’t sure when his mum had gotten strong enough to carry a fully-grown man.

He’d showered, got changed, messaged Barb and Tatiana to say he was fine but not to disturb him; he’d even gone and rummaged through the back of his wardrobe to find some old clothes Owen had left there - he hoped they’d still fit. But now he was just sat there twiddling his thumbs. Waiting.

He hated waiting.

Just as Curt decided fuck it, he was going in that room no matter how annoyed his mum was going to be, Mrs. Mega bustled through the door; Curt stood up, ready to ask what she’d been doin-

“Do you know how lucky you are?”

“Huh?” Curt said intelligently.

“Both of his kneecaps, Curt! Both of them! Goodness, you are lucky you don’t seem to have done any permanent damage - I can’t imagine how he’d feel if you’d destroyed his kneecaps, for goodness sake, Curt!” She didn’t seem to be breathing.

“Uh, well, I, he, it was better than killing him!” Curt said, still intelligently.

“Oh, so your options were maiming or murder? God, you’re just like your father, never thinking!”

Curt took that as the insult it was meant to be.

Mrs. Mega huffed before stalking towards the kitchen. “Now what’s for dinner, I worked up quite the appetite fixing that poor boy.”

Curt froze. “Uh, you didn’t say to make anything?”

“For goodness sake, Curt! What have you been doing for the past-” she twirled around to look at the clock hanging on the wall- “the past hour, Curt! Well, I’ll just have to make some pasta. You go keep an eye on your friend. I handcuffed him to the bedpost, by the way.”

“How did you know-”

“He’s been dead for four years Curt, I didn’t expect it to be sunshine and roses. Oh, he woke up briefly by the way, seemed quite out of it though. Reminds me of every time it was him dragging _you_ through the door.”

Curt let out a small breath of a chuckle before picking up the pile of clothes he’d set aside and heading to the bedroom.

* * *

Owen looked so peaceful lying on the bed. His wounds had been cleaned and re-bandaged, and, like his mum had said, his hands were handcuffed round the bedpost.

It hit Curt all at once. Owen was alive. Owen was alive and presently in front of him. Alive. And not dead.

Curt felt faint.

Collapsing into the chair that had been pulled up next to the bed, Curt put his head in hands and cried; Owen was alive, he was allowed to have a moment.

Curt wasn’t going to admit how long he cried, but finally he wiped his eyes and leant back in the chair, taking in how Owen looked now. He was definitely thinner, and there were a few new scars that hadn’t been there four years ago. Curt didn’t want to think of how many might have been because of the incident that had ‘killed’ him originally.

He wished he’d never left him.

Curt bit his lip and reached forwards, opening Owen’s jacket and rummaging through its pockets before coming to land on his journal; still in the same place; still the same man somewhere in there, he supposed.

He gripped the journal and was about to flip it open when he stopped. He chewed his lip, glancing from the journal to Owen to the journal to Owen. He couldn’t do that. It didn’t matter what Owen had done; he couldn’t do that to him. He felt like if he opened it, he’d get all the answers to his questions, but he just couldn’t do that. Not to Owen.

He stared down at the journal in frustration.

“That’s not yours, dear.” Curt startled.

“I haven’t read it.”

“Haven’t you now? So that’s why you took it?” Owen attempted a smirk but gave up halfway; he looked, and sounded, exhausted.

“I changed my mind.” Curt put the journal on the bedside table and turned back to Owen. “I’ve brought you some spare clothes if you feel up to changing – your pants were ruined, and that jacket is stiff as fuck.”

Owen looked grateful. Curt tried not to read too much into that.

“Thank you, love-”

“ _Don’t!_ ” Curt startled himself. “Just. Don’t call me that. Please.”

Owen looked down. Then nodded. He seemed to think for a second, then looked back towards Curt. Curt noticed his gaze was just slightly to the side of him, rather than straight at him. He tried not to think about what that meant.

“Could you, uhm, help me get changed?” Owen had never sounded more unsure in his life. “I mean, can’t really – my knees aren’t really obeying me right now.” He swallowed, before seeming to get a hold of himself, “and, I don’t know if you noticed, old chap, but I’m a little tied up.”

Curt laughed, but nodded.

They’d need to talk, he’d need answers; but for now, he just wanted to take care of the man he’d believed was dead.

Conversation could wait until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure about my characterisation in this - honestly, people have never been my strong suit in writing; I'm a very descriptive writer.
> 
> Hopefully I'll improve as time goes on.
> 
> (Also, please don't expect me to update every day, I was just in the zone today).


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tatiana is here! And she ain't got time for nobody's shit.  
> And Owen's point of view!

Curt felt guilty. Owen was obviously in pain; he’d been putting on a brave face the entire time Curt had helped him get changed, but that hadn’t stopped quite hisses and whimpers from escaping.

Facing the fact that he still didn’t like it when Owen was hurt was difficult.

It was all to easy to fall back in love with Owen Carvour.

He slipped out of the bedroom, Owen’s clothes in a bundle under his arm, and stopped short when he saw Tatiana sat on the sofa.

“Why weren’t you returning my calls?” Her eyes were narrowed and body tense. Mrs. Mega chose that moment to bustle out of the kitchen.

“Curt! There you are! Tatiana said she tried calling you – is this any way to treat her?” She turned to Tatiana, “honestly, I’m so sorry, dear. He can be so scatter-brained. You know he’s brought his old drinking buddy hom -”

“ _Mom!”_ Owen hissed, but the damage was done. Tatiana raised an eyebrow. He grabbed her hand and yanked her into his bedroom.

“But dinner’s ready, Curt! _Curt!_ ” His mother called after him.

“We’ll be there in a minute!”

Curt slumped on the bed. Tatiana watched him silently.

“Say whatever you need to say.” He felt his chest caving in – if she told Barb, or, God forbid, Cyntha, goodness knows what would happen. Would they kill Owen? He’d only just saved him; he didn’t want him to die; and what would they do with Curt? This was a mess and Curt wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to hear what Tatiana was going to say, probably something about how she would have to report him or how he shouldn’t have done what he did or-

“How is he?”

“Huh?” Curt said, intelligently.

“I would do anything to have my family back. It is not the same, but I understand.” Suddenly Curt was very grateful that she’d fallen into his life – not that he wasn’t grateful before! He was just even more grateful now.

“He’s… I’m not sure how he is. I mean, I shot him. Twice. But then he doesn’t seem as different as… as I thought he would.”

“Maybe he’s not that different.”

“You really don’t think I should’ve handed him over? Or… you know?” Curt chewed his lip. Honestly, _he_ wasn’t sure he’d done the right thing.

“I think we cannot know if it would have been better. I would not say I think it a… sensible decision, but I think I would have made the same choice. I will support you.”

Curt was only sure of one thing in this life: Tatiana was an angel.

“Don’t tell anyone else – I need to figure things out first and I… I just want to do it quietly?”

Tatiana smiled. “Take a break. Eat dinner. I will sit with him.”

Tatiana was honestly the most brilliant woman he had ever met.

* * *

Owen stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the pain in his knees. He was not doing very well so far.

It bloody hurt.

And no one had given him any ruddy painkillers.

Not that he could blame them of course – wanted criminal and all that - but fucking ow.

He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t going to give anyone the fucking satisfaction to see him cry.

He was crying.

Bloody fuck goddammit.

He heard the door open. Oh god no, not when he was totally not crying, not then.

“Curt, now is-”

“I am not Curt.”

Ah the very not friendly Russian lady. Vast improvement that.

“Mrs. Mega sent me in with dinner. I will not untie your hands; I will feed you.” She placed a bowl of something on the counter. Owen closed his eyes.

“As much as I, um, I love that idea, darling. I’m really not very hungry.” He honestly felt a bit sick. Probably the pain, you know, from the fucking gunshot wounds, but he wasn’t about to ask for a painkiller from anyone, especially the scary Russian lady.

Tatiana. Should probably start calling her Tatiana in his head before he calls her a scary Russian lady out loud; not sure he’d survive that one.

“You are in pain, no? Did they give you painkillers?” Or scary Russian la- _Tatiana_ will bring it up for him? Nice Russian lady.

Owen shook his head. “I don’t believe Mrs. Mega has a drip lying around.”

Nope, sarcasm bad Owen. Especially when someone might get you _painkillers,_ Owen.

He cleared his throat. “Umm, no, they haven’t. Sorry.” Better, Owen.

Without saying a word, Tatiana spun on her heel and marched out of the room. Owen hoped that was a good sign.

* * *

“Do we normally leave our guests to suffer in pain?”

Curt startled, almost dropping his fork; not that he’d admit to that. His mum looked unfazed.

“Curt, did you not give him anything? You know where we keep the medicine!”

“We have opiates? Mum that’s ille-”

“Don’t illegal me! You’re a ‘special agent’ Curt, of course I have opiates.”

Curt blinked. That was fair.

Tatiana opened the cupboard and rummaged around. “You have codeine? Good. Less addictive.”

Then she marched back into the bedroom.

Mrs. Mega smiled happily. “She’s a keeper, Curt.”

Curt honestly wasn’t sure what she meant by that.

* * *

Tatiana was a blessing, an angel, a god amongst men.

If Owen wasn’t gay as the fourth of July, he’d marry her.

He could still feel the pain; quite badly to be honest, but he no longer felt like he entire being was centred upon the tidal wave of fucking agony it had been before, so that was a vast improvement.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d thanked her before Tatiana told him to “shut up.”

It hadn’t stopped him, but he didn’t think she was too upset about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New headcannon: Owen is totally a potty mouth and the whole posh boy act is just that - an act.  
> In his defence: pain.
> 
> I had way too much fun writing from his point of view. Way too much.
> 
> But oh my god, halfway through writing this I remembered that ibuprofen wasn't invented back then and had to scramble to figure that out, only to discover opiates were pretty much completely banned during that time and doctor's hated prescribing them. I hate everything.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first half of this chapter is nicknamed Curt: a Crisis.  
> But then Tatiana imparts her wisdom. Thank God for Tatiana.

Curt didn’t sleep well that night; and as he laid there, staring up at the ceiling, he thought about Owen.

He was not what he’d expected.

He’d expected anger, and fury; he’d expected Owen to be spitting curses into his face about how he’d betrayed him, how it was time to tear everything down. But that’s not what had happened.

Maybe it was the fact that he was injured. It was probably the fact that he was injured. As he healed, Owen would probably go back to hissing and spitting and the hatred and the anger and the-

Curt had to believe it wasn’t just the pain. He’d known Owen, and once he’d sat next to the man as he’d been tortured by men who didn’t realise that pain never got answers from anybody; he’d heard the man scream.

But even then, Owen was throwing the exact same quips with the exact same smile. If pain hadn’t changed him then, would it really change him now?

It was wishful thinking.

But wouldn’t it be nice?

* * *

The next morning, Curt dragged himself out of bed bleary eyed and stumbled into the kitchen. There was a mug of coffee waiting for him on the table, and it was times like these that Curt remembered how much he adored his mother; always one step ahead for him.

She didn’t even like coffee, and yet she always made a mug for him.

He needed to talk to Owen, but talking was hard, so he was going to make breakfast, then eat breakfast, then do the laundry for his mum, go do grocery shopping, and then he’d… figure out something else to do. Maybe make lunch? Yeah, good plan. And he wouldn’t think about Owen at all while he did it!

Fool proof.

Curt rummaged through the cupboards for the porridge oats; he had always been terrible at cooking breakfast and porridge was the simplest thing his mum kept around; when they were on missions, Owen would always cook for hi- dammit.

Tatiana took the opportune moment to walk through the door – she’d insisted on sleeping on the sofa the night before, despite Curt offering his bed under the intense gaze of his mother. He would’ve offered it anyway, of course, but his mother staring holes in the back of his head did add rather a lot of incentive.

“Your mother told me last night that you destroyed the kitchen making that. I will take over.”

How dare. He hadn’t _destroyed_ the kitchen; he’d just let the pot overflow a little bit. Okay, a lot. Okay, a _lot_ a lot.

He gave Tatiana the oats.

Time to start the laundry!

* * *

Owen wasn’t sure what to make of how nice people were being to him. Earlier, Mrs. Mega had come by with a cup of hot tea – Darjeeling, and just the way he liked it. Mrs. Mega didn’t even drink English teas, always preferring chamomile or jasmine, so for her to even have Darjeeling…

She’d also moved him so only one of his hands was handcuffed now; she had to know he could easily get out of handcuffs with one hand free, so why would she ever?

He didn’t understand.

He definitely didn’t deserve it, that much he knew.

He clutched the mug in his free hand. The mug was so hot it almost scorched him, but he’d never liked holding mugs by the handle; it had pissed his father off to no end, but he would burn his whole hand before he used a fucking handle when not on mission.

Curt had always found it funny how intense he was about that.

He remembered sitting in hotel rooms, joking arguments about how a ‘proper gentleman’ held tea mugs.

_Owen, goddammit, you’re British! You should know how to hold a mug!_

He wondered if they could ever go back to that, wondered if maybe they’d be able to laugh the same way the used to, back when their secrets didn’t seem so heavy. They could book a hotel room, push the two single beds together in the middle of the room and just lie there, talking and laughing, laughing and talking, for what felt like hours. Just like they used to.

It was wishful thinking.

But wouldn’t it be nice?

* * *

So his mum had done all the laundry already, and was also out food shopping at that very moment. Honestly, it was like she knew he was going to do this.

Curt glowered into his breakfast.

Tatiana sighed, “I know you are trying to put off talking to him, but you have to at some point.”

“I know, it’s just… he died, and he left me, and… and he broke my heart.”

“Don’t you think he feels the same way?”

Curt looked up. “What do you mean? He betrayed me!”

Tatiana had that look on her face; the one that said _oh Curt, you idiot_. “You betrayed him first, Curt.” Curt opened his mouth to argue – “No, you did! Even if you do not think you did, he feels like you betrayed him; you keep saying he broke your heart, but you broke his first. You will never be able to fix anything unless you see that.”

Curt stared at her.

“I am just saying, Curt. I love you, but you always see the world from your side. Owen has a point of view as well, so what does he see? What is his side?”

Curt frowned. If Tatiana thought that of him, that he was self-absorbed, that he never thought of someone else, then it was probably true. How could he face anyone-

“I am not saying you’re a bad person, Curt. We all have our flaws, but we all have our strengths too. You are a good person, Curt, and I know this, but Owen saw you betray him and that is what lead him here.”

“I never intended-”

“Sometimes, it is not our intentions that matter, but the way other people experience our actions.”

* * *

Curt steeled himself before opening the bedroom door. Tatiana had wrapped him up in a tight hug and told him quietly: _I don’t think Owen is as angry as he pretends to be. Talk to him._

She’d better be right. Curt couldn’t handle Owen breaking his heart again.

Owen was sat on the bed with his legs stretched out in front of him, one hand handcuffed to the bedpost, the other holding a book; _A Stranger in Strange Land_ by Robert A. Heinlein, by the looks of things. His mum had been waxing poetic about it for ages, so it wasn’t surprising she’d given it to Owen.

Curt looked at the single hand locked to the bedpost and raised an eyebrow at Owen.

“We both know you could get out of those.”

“Hmm, but it would be rather rude, don’t you think?” Owen slipped a bookmark into the novel and set it aside. Curt noticed his journal had disappeared from the table and wondered what Owen had done with it.

He pulled up a chair.

“Is this an interrogation, lo-” Owen cleared his throat. “Is this an interrogation?”

“No, this is a conversation.”

“You and I both know that those are often the same thing.”

Curt closed his eyes and counted to ten.

“I’m sorry.”

Curt opened his eyes and stared at Owen.

“Pardon?”

Owen looked to the side and clenched his jaw. “I said I’m sorry. For everything.”

Well that took the wind out of the sails of Curt’s apology.

“Why did you do it?”

“Thought this wasn’t an interrogation, darling.”

Curt glowered at Owen. Owen sighed.

“That’s not- I’ll tell you I swear, just, give me time. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to, though, I promise.”

“You expect me to believe you didn’t want to do any of that? Prove it to me!”

“Do you remember the first time we kissed?” The non-sequitur through Curt for a loop. He did remember; Curt had figured Owen out, and Owen had looked terrified at the very idea. He’d stuttered and stammered his way through excuses, eventually settling on begging Curt not to tell on him. Curt had found a very good way to shut him up.

“Yes, I remember.”

“Do you remember where it was?”

“The hotel in Russia, in Tver?”

“Yeah, it burnt down a few years back. The basement survived though.”

Curt saw where this was going.

“I’ll send a team.”

Owen smiled; it was small, it was quick, but it was real; unlike the smirk he’d worn before.

Curt had almost forgotten what it looked like.

He picked up the empty mug from the bedside table and headed towards the door.

“I’ll bring you in some oatmeal – Tatiana made it, don’t worry.” He looked down and the mug in his hands. “Say, do you still hold mugs that weird way you always did?”

Owen smiled again.

It felt like a victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a while - I'd planned to upload on Wednesday but got hit by a godawful migraine that lasted through Thursday. Fun times.
> 
> This chapter was a little hard to write - Owen just didn't want to do anything for me, but I finally got him to behave.
> 
> Also, I imagine Curt telling Owen he knew he was gay in the first kiss, being like Curt wanted to say "hey, I'm into you and I know you're gay and ;)" but being the awkward child he is he just terrified Owen instead.
> 
> I edited this chapter slightly because I originally wrote that Owen was sat cross-legged on the bed. I shot his bloody kneecaps and forgot about it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tatiana leaves to get shit done and Owen and Curt have a heart to heart.  
> Fucking finally.

Tatiana was already getting ready to leave; she’d called Cynthia and asked for a team to head to Russia with. Curt wasn’t sure how she’d explained the situation to her but as long as it was dealt with, he found he didn’t really care.

His mum was making sandwiches in the kitchen; she would never let Tatiana leave without something to eat along the way, so sandwiches it was. Tatiana didn’t let anything show on her face, but Curt knew she appreciated it.

“I will be leaving in a minute.” Curt startled.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay? What with the KGB,” he asked, pulling her into a hug.

“I have the American Secret Service at my back. And Russia is large. I will be fine.”

“And don’t leave without any sandwiches; mom would not be pleased.”

Tatiana smiled, “of course not; I would not want to upset her. She has been a very good host. I will say goodbye to Owen first, anyway.”

With that, she slipped through the bedroom door and shut it behind her.

Saying goodbye to a prisoner. Well.

Curt made his way into the kitchen and perched himself on top of the counter, kicking his legs back and forth, watching as his mother put a kettle on the hob.

“What is it, baby?”

Curt opened his mouth. Then closed it. Then opened it. Then closed it.

“You want to be a goldfish? Use your words, Curt; I can’t translate Morse code.”

“What do you think about Owen?”

“Owen… he’s a sweet boy.” Mrs. Mega nodded to herself, “I remember back when you were friends; he was such a gentleman. _You_ never learnt to cook, but Owen… Owen could cook! And he did so much around the house… whoever he marries will be a lucky gal!”

Curt huffed. “I meant now, mom; I know he was great back then.”

“He’s quiet. I remember he was always so loud and confident,” she put down her knife and stared at it for a second, “I don’t know what happened to him, but he’s not okay. Sometimes I go in and he’s just staring at nothing. Maybe he’s messed up, maybe he hasn’t, but he’s definitely upset about something.” She paused, before sending a sly look Curt’s way. “Don’t think I don’t know he could choose to break those handcuffs too.”

Curt smiled, “he said it’d be rude.”

Mrs. Mega shook her head. “Don’t you understand, you dunce, he’s choosing to stay!”

Oh. That was… pretty obvious now that Curt thought about it.

He _was_ a dunce.

Curt heard the door to the spare bedroom open and close, and turned around to see Tatiana walk into the kitchen.

“I’m afraid I really do need to leave, Mrs. Mega, but it’s been wonderful to see you.”

Mrs. Mega whirled around before quickly grabbing a brown paper bag and filling it with sandwiches.

“Oh, Tatiana, you don’t come enough! Curt! You need to invite her more!”

Curt groaned, “yes, mom.”

“Oh, and make sure to eat these on the way, and don’t be a stranger. Oh, it’s been lovely, my dear; do visit again soon!” Mrs. Mega pulled Tatiana into a tight hug before pushing the paper bag into her hands. “Really, Tatiana, as soon as you are free, I expect to see you back here; don’t even ask Curt; you know what he’s like, just turn up! I will be happy to have you he-”

“Mom, she needs to go.”

“Oh, yes, well, come back soon!” Mrs. Mega swung back around just as the kettle began whistling.

Curt shook his head, before pulling Tatiana into one last hug of his own.

“Stay safe, and I want to know if there are any problems – any at all.”

“You worry too much,” Tatiana said, “as I said, I will be fine.”

With one final squeeze, Curt let go, and Tatiana slung her duffel over her shoulder before marching through the door.

Curt wished she had stayed already.

He was startled by his mum pushing two plates into his hands, one was over-laden with sandwiches.

“Take this to Owen, would you? The bigger one; that boy is way too skinny. Makes me feel hungry just looking at him.”

Curt nodded, before reaching around and grabbing the two mugs from the side; one coffee, one tea; he’d been a waiter back in his teen years and whenever he stayed with his mum, he found himself putting the skills to good use again.

He balanced everything on his arm swiftly and made his way to the bedroom.

He wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was actually looking forward to seeing him again. He bit back a little smile just as he got to the door.

* * *

Owen wasn’t sure how he felt about Tatiana leaving; on one hand her calm seriousness was a welcome escape from Mrs. Mega’s bustling and Curt’s… well, he was Curt.

But on the other, she was just a little scary.

He sighed, staring up at the ceiling; after talking to Curt that morning he felt exhausted, and his knees were smarting, and his wrist ached from where it was trapped in the handcuffs.

This was shit.

He was glad Curt had listened to him though; he hoped they’d find the box. He knew it wouldn’t be enough to put him back into Curt’s good graces, and he found his heart ache at the thought, but if he could help just a little then that would be enough.

It would have to be enough.

He couldn’t lie here and think about how much he missed how things used to be, couldn’t lie here and dream of going back; he could waste his life away living inside of his head, but that wouldn’t change anything.

It wouldn’t change the fact that he’d lost everything.

Owen felt his eyes sting. Shuffling onto his side, he shut his eyes tight. Maybe he could fall asleep just for a little while. Escaping his problems for one afternoon wouldn’t be so bad, would it?

The door clicked open.

He heard someone edge into the room, Curt, by the sounds of the things, and the sounds of plates being put down. He kept his eyes shut tight, hoping Curt would just leave so he could stay here and not move. Moving sounded exhausting.

“I know you’re awake.” Dammit.

Sighing, Owen cracked his eyes open and stared at Curt.

“You alright?” Curt tilted his head in concern. Owen had almost forgotten how it felt to have someone be concerned about him.

“Yeah, just tired.” If he ignored how his voice cracked, maybe Curt would too.

Curt stared at him for a second before plopping himself down onto the edge of the bed. He reached over Owen and took the hand handcuffed to the bedpost.

His hands were softer than he remembered. Must’ve been the time out of the field.

Curt clicked open the handcuffs and rubbed gently at Owen’s wrist. Owen wanted to cry again.

“Sorry for tying you up like that, but you get it.”

“Why are you letting me out?” Curt gave him a look. Owen felt like he’d missed the punchline of a joke.

“Because you don’t want to leave, do you?”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, his eyes were watering. Fuck, not now.

Curt looked stricken.

“Oh god, what did I do? I didn’t mean to upset you! I just thought… I mean I didn’t really get it, you know, but my mom, she pointed it out, and shit, I’m sorry, please stop crying. I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to.”

Owen let out a weak chuckle.

“I’m sorry, I don’t even know why I’m crying. It’s stupid.”

“Nothing about you could ever be stupid.”

Oh shit what?

* * *

Oh shit what?

Did he just say that? Oh, Curt, you fucking idiot.

“Well, what I mean is, ummm, you know, you always have a reason? I mean, uhm, well, shit.”

Owen was staring at him, wide-eyed.

“Fuck it, okay! I’m still… aw fuck, I’m still upset?”

Oh shit, Owen was crying again that didn’t go well.

“But that doesn’t mean… I mean I still…” Curt dropped his head into his hands a groaned. “I miss you okay?”

“What?” Right, he’d said that into his hands.

“ _I miss you_.”

“Oh.”

* * *

_Oh._

Owen wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t a dream.

Curt was looking steadily more upset and anxious; Owen realised he hadn’t actually responded.

“I miss you, too.”

Curt’s head snapped to him.

“Really?”

Owen chewed his lip. He felt raw. “I kept missing you to be honest.”

“But you… everything you did?”

“I know.”

“Oh.”

They stared at each other.

Owen knew they couldn’t keep going like this. Curt would probably hate him when he knew everything. He knew it was his fault.

But couldn’t he try for just a little bit of happiness? Just a moment, before he lost it all again.

“They… they blackmailed me. I didn’t have a choice.”

“What did they have?”

“What’s the biggest secret I have?”

* * *

Owen was avoiding his gaze.

Fuck.

“Us. They had us.”

Owen let out a sob, nodding into the pillow.

That explained a lot.

Curt reached out a hand, trembling, before laying it on Owen’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

He felt like his head was stuffed with cotton.

But Owen… Owen was still crying.

And Owen crying fucking hurt.

Curt shifted up the bed, pulling Owen’s head into his lap.

He started brushing his fingers through Owen’s hair gently as he tangled his free hand together with Owen’s.

And he realised, he would do anything to keep this man by his side.

He hoped Owen felt the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter did not do what I expected it to at all. All that heart to heart was not supposed to happen this chapter; the reveal of what Owen was blackmailed with was supposed to be next chapter and then the rest of it was going to be even later.
> 
> But they just can't keep away from each other.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly a filler, I'm afraid.  
> But fluff! And Barb! What more could you want from a filler?

Gradually, Owen’s crying had tapered off. Curt helped him shift so he was sat up, leaning against Curt, curled up into his side.

It felt right.

Curt passed over his tea and put the plate on his lap. “Mom wants you to eat all of them – and you know she’ll have my head if you don’t.”

A ghost of a smile flitted over Owen’s lips. “Thanks, lo-”

He coughed awkwardly.

“You can call me that again, you know? I’m sorry I told you to stop.”

Owen blinked. “Thanks, love.” Curt could feel him pressing a smile into his shoulder.

Before he could second guess himself, Curt kissed him lightly on the top of his head.

For just a moment, everything was okay.

* * *

Before he even managed to finish eating, Owen’s eyes were drooping. Curt felt his breath even out against his shoulder.

He allowed himself a small, indulgent smile, before slipping out of the bed and tucking Owen in.

He stood there for a moment, staring.

Even now, he still lo-

Well.

He gathered the plates and mugs and left the bedroom.

“Did he eat everything?”

Curt jumped out of his skin.

“Jeez, mom, give a man some warning! No, he did-”

“Well, why not?” She folded her arms and gave him a _look_.

_“Mom!_ He fell asleep, okay!”

She huffed, shaking her head. “Put the rest of the sandwiches in the refrigerator, he can eat them when he wakes up.”

She began walking towards the living room before pausing. “You did good bringing him here, Curt.”

Curt smiled.

* * *

The rest of the day passed slowly, as days are wont to do when there’s nothing to do.

The warm glow from that morning had failed, and now both Owen and Curt found themselves thinking of Russia, thinking of what was there, worrying and waiting.

Curt felt antsy; obviously Tatiana wasn’t even in Russia yet, but he found himself waiting and waiting for a call. It was driving him up the wall, and he found himself working out for hours on end just to try and distract himself from the nervous energy he’d accumulated.

Owen faired only slightly better; he bounced between reading various books, doing puzzles, and just staring at the ceiling worrying. Nothing seemed to distract him.

When night came, neither could sleep.

* * *

Curt slipped out of his bedroom, expertly avoiding the creaky floorboards dotted around the living room, and sneaked into Owen’s room.

He didn’t know when he’d stopped thinking of it as the guest room and started thinking of it as Owen’s room.

He found Owen lying there, staring at the ceiling, brow furrowed.

“Mind if I stick with you?” Curt asked.

Owen slid his gaze over, before a slow smile graced his features. He shifted to the side.

Owen was a warm weight against his side.

They fell asleep.

* * *

The next day brought no less frustration than the last.

Curt snuck out of Owen’s room just as dawn broke across the horizon, leaving Owen dozing lightly, and slipped back into his own room.

His bed was frustratingly cold.

* * *

He received a single message that evening from Tatiana, saying she’d reached Tver and was in place to start operations.

Neither Owen nor Curt felt any better hearing that.

Curt was sat on a chair next to Owen’s bed when he felt his communicator beep. Ah, he _had_ been ignoring Barb hadn’t he.

“Curt? Are you there?”

“Ah, Barb! Long time no… hear.” Owen gave him a look.

“That was terrible, love,” he hissed. Curt pouted.

“And _why_ haven’t you been answering your calls? I had to hear it from Tatiana that you’d got home safe!”

“I’m sorry-”

“Sorry, _sorry?!_ Sorry for not answering my calls, sorry for letting me worry? _Curt,_ you can’t do this!”

Okay, Curt did feel a bit guilty. He hadn’t realised how much he might’ve worried Barb.

Owen, damn him, just looked amused.

“I really am sorry, I just… had some things to deal with.”

He could feel the weight of Barb’s silence.

“Curt. You did k-” she choked. “You did _deal with_ Owen, right? We sent a team but there wasn’t a body.”

Ah shit.

“Ummm, well, that is.” He pulled a face at Owen, who was laughing silently. “I can explain, Barb, just give me some time to ummm-”

“You let him live didn’t you.”

“What? Nooooooo, why would I do that? Let him live? Ha! What a silly, silly ide- okay fine, yes.”

Barb sighed.

“Well, do you know where he’s headed? What he’s doing?”

Owen was still laughing. Curt handed him his communicator.

Owen stopped laughing.

He shook his head.

Curt nodded.

Owen shook his head harder.

Curt raised an eyebrow.

“Hello, Barb.” Owen pulled a face at Curt. It was a face that said _Why the fuck are you making me do this?_ It was Curt’s turn to laugh.

“OWEN?!”

“Yes, dear. It’s been an awfully long while, hasn’t it?”

Barb was making unintelligible noises on the other side of the call, and-

“ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!”

Ah, there it is.

“WHAT THE FUCK, OWEN?” There was a slight pause before she simply screamed down the call. Owen winced, pulling the communicator away from his ear for the good ten seconds it took for her to get it out of her system.

“Well, my dear, I’m so sorr-”

“No, no, Owen, I want an explanation. I’m sure if Curt let you… go,” there was a smile in her voice when she said Curt’s name, “he had a good reason, but I’m going to need to hear it too – you were my friend you… you fuck!”

Curt was laughing so hard that he just stopped listening.

Ah, whatever, Owen deserved it.

* * *

Eventually, Owen managed to explain Barb down.

Curt still had that look in his eyes; the one that said he could burst out laughing at any moment.

After a lengthy lecture, Curt finally managed to hang up and the both huffed out a breath in relief.

“Well,” Owen said, “that went better than expected. Ignoring her, though, love? That was never going to go well.”

Curt shoved his shoulder.

* * *

Curt snuck into Owen’s room again that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit I don't love this chapter; I don't have any large time-skips so far in the story but still needed to move us forward about 48 hours, so this was how I had to do it.  
> Back to plot next chapter, I promise.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.
> 
> (Also, there is a description of a panic attack in this chapter, full disclosure)

Curt was lying on the sofa tossing a ball up and down when his communicator beeped.

It was Tatiana.

“Hey, Tati-”

“Curt.” She sounded out of breath. “They were watching the place.”

“What?”

“We have the box but two of the team were killed. I am leaving Russia now.”

She cut the call.

Curt stared in shock, before what she said finally sank in. His face went slack with the realisation.

He bolted for Owen’s room.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Owen straightened up in surprise.

“I trusted you! And what? You lead my people into trap? What? Are you playing the long game? Getting into my good graces so you can-”

“What the bloody hell are you on about?”

“ _The trap_ , Owen. You conveniently left that out when you told us to go get a fucking box.”

Owen looked taken aback. “There were people watching? But that’s not-”

“Oh stop with your stupid fucking excuses. I can’t even- and to think-” Curt hissed out a breath before turning on his heel and storming back out the room.

He stood stock still in the living room for a moment before storming towards the makeshift gym. He couldn’t punch Owen and his stupid pretty face, so he was going hit a punching bag. Repeatedly.

* * *

Owen stared after Curt.

They were watching.

They knew.

_They knew_.

He couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

Oh God.

_Oh God, help me._

_I can’t breathe. Can’t breathe. Can’t breathe._

_Please._

He curled up in a ball. Couldn’t notice the pain in his knees. Grasping at his hair. Pulling. Pulling. Gasping for breath.

_Curt._

* * *

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The bag swung back and forth with every rhythmic punch.

Thud. _I trusted him again._

Thud. _I fell for him again._

Thud. _He betrayed me again._

Curt grabbed the bag in a hug, stopping its motion. He stood there, just breathing, before he felt his eyes watering.

He clutched the bag and cried.

* * *

Owen felt empty.

He stared at the wall.

He didn’t have the energy to lift his head.

They knew.

He’d hoped they’d believe he was dead. A foolish hope.

But he really didn’t think they’d known where he’d put the box.

How did they know?

He blinked slowly.

He could’ve sworn there was something important, something he didn’t have the energy to think of right now, but goodness only knew what it was.

He let the thought go.

Owen felt empty.

He stared at the wall.

* * *

A few hours later found Curt throwing the door to Owen’s room open.

There was an untouched cup of tea on the side, obviously let by his mum, that had gone stone cold.

Owen glanced at him before returning to staring.

Curt felt himself growing angry.

“Look at me, dammit!”

Owen didn’t react.

“I said _look at me!”_ He shoved him in the shoulder.

Owen sucked in a breath.

Eyes wide.

Nervous.

Curt swore to himself.

“Look, just, what the fuck, Owen?”

Owen bit his lip. “I swear I didn’t tell them, Curt. You have to believe m-”

“I don’t have to believe anything.”

Owen flinched. Curt regretted it already.

“I swear, lo- I swear.”

Curt noticed how he stopped himself. He didn’t correct him though. He didn’t know what he wanted.

Slowly, something seemed to dawn in Owen’s eyes.

“Oh, God, Curt!”

“What?”

“ _They know_. _”_

Curt rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know, _they know where the box is, but I didn’t tell them I swear_. We’ve been having this conversation.”

“No, no, Curt, oh fuck. They know I’m alive, they know I’ve betrayed them. Curt, they know about… about our secret.”

Oh.

Curt walked out the room.

He didn’t see Owen put his head in his hands and cry.

* * *

Curt didn’t know what to believe.

If Owen was telling the truth then maybe Chimera was about to tell everyone that he was actually, that he… and what should he do? He'd have to try and deal with it somehow.

But if he was lying, would trying to protect himself from the possible outing only cause him more harm?

What to believe?

God, he’d fallen for Owen again without even thinking. The Deadliest Man Alive, he'd killed so many people, and that time he’d… well, he’d tortured him.

And he’d just fallen again like four years hadn’t passed.

He was an idiot.

Truth or a lie? Truth or a lie? He didn’t know.

He knew what he wanted to believe, what he wished was true. But Curt knew what he wished for never came true.

(He’d wished that Owen was alive, though).

Tatiana was on a plane; he couldn’t call her.

He called Barb instead.

“Curt! Did you hear about what happened? Thank God Tatiana’s okay, but we lost Michael and Henry, but we got the box! Tatiana’s flying back with it right now, but she didn’t have a chance to look inside before she had to stop the call and go. I’m really curious-”

“Barb?”

“Yes, Curt?”

“Do you think Owen set us up?”

There was silence on the other side of the phone. It was quiet for so long that Curt almost checked to make sure she was still on the line.

“I don’t know, Curt. Do you?”

“I don’t know.”

* * *

Owen was an idiot.

An idiot to believe he’d ever be free.

An idiot to believe Curt would ever believe him.

An idiot too blind to how much he lo-

To how much he _loved_ Curt.

There he'd admitted it. He _loved_ him. And Curt _hated_ him in return.

After all he’d done, all he’d fucked up.

God, it was all his fault.

He deserved everything and he knew it.

Didn’t make it a lighter cross to bear.

He wished he could fix everything.

He wished.

He wished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes.  
> I've been really looking forward to writing this chapter then when it came time to do it I was like I don't wanna!
> 
> But thank you all so much! I could never have expected the response I've been getting to this fic and it's genuinely amazing to me. I really can't believe it <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (This chapter contains alcoholism, mentions of vomit, and another minor panic attack)

Mrs. Mega did not look pleased; she’d come in to check how Owen’s knees were healing and found that he’d pulled the stitches. Safe to say she was not impressed.

“When did you do this? And why didn’t you tell me? Or Curt?” She was fussing with the first aid kit.

“Well, I… guess I didn’t notice.”

“Didn’t… for goodness sake, how do you not notice you pulled your stitches?”

Owen would have loved to reply but it was at that moment that Mrs. Mega shoved a needle through his skin, and what would have been a very eloquent reply, thank you very much, came out as a whimper.

After a couple of seconds to get his head back on straight, he finally found his voice. “I’m terribly, sorry, ma’am.” He groaned. “I promise I’ll – I’ll pay better attention next time.”

Ow.

Mrs. Mega sighed. “I afraid we’re out of opiates, and getting them is a bit of a hassle.”

“Alcohol does the job just as well-”

“I don’t allow alcohol in this house anymore.”

Owen frowned. She hadn’t had any problems with alcohol back when… back then, so he didn’t understand why things had changed. “Why-”

“You’ll have to ask Curt about that.” She stabbed the needle in particularly hard.

“Oh f- sorry, ma’am.”

Mrs. Mega seemed to startle. She shook her head, smiling slightly.

“You’re a good kid, Owen. Now, I don’t know what happened between you and my son, but you’re a good kid.”

Owen knew that was a lie, but it was nice to hear all the same.

* * *

Curt knew his mum was in Owen’s room. He had no idea why she was taking so long, but what he did know was that it was ample opportunity to sneak out.

He needed a fucking drink.

His mum had been getting antsier and antsier about his drinking as the years went by, and it had accumulated in Curt spending days out of the house, bouncing between bars, rather than coming home to where his mother wouldn’t let him touch a bottle.

He knew he’d hurt her then; he knew she didn’t want him to drink again, but he just couldn’t _think_ anymore.

So he grabbed his jacket and pair of house keys and slipped quietly out the front door.

He’d be back before the end of the day.

He slipped into his car, trying to ignore the fact that Owen’s blood probably still hadn’t been cleaned from the back, and headed to the nearest bar.

* * *

Mrs. Mega was stressed about something.

She’d finished up fixing his knees about a half hour ago, telling him it’d be a few more days until she wanted him putting weight on it: _I was going to get you up today, but it looks like that’s not happening._

Ugh. He was fed up of being trapped.

But, the more pressing issue was how Mrs. Mega’s eyes kept dancing to the side; her hands had been shaking when she’d brought in a cup of tea, and she kept coming into and out of the room.

She was clearly upset.

Finally, Owen snapped.

“Ma’am?”

“Yes, Owen, what is it? I’m a little busy right now, got a lot to do-”

“Ma’am, please. What’s wrong?”

Mrs. Mega stopped in her tracks. “Oh, well, it’s just.” She sighed. “I have no idea where Curt is.”

“He’s gone?”

“Yes, and I have no idea-” she sighed. “I’d go look for him but…”

“I’m sure he’s fine.”

“You don’t understand, Owen! Curt he…” she made a frustrated noise. “It’s not really my tale to tell.”

Whatever he was missing, Owen realised, was less important than how upset Mrs. Mega was.

“I’ll be fine, ma’am, you can go look for him.”

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly! What if something happened?” She walked straight out the room muttering something about foolish boys.

* * *

Curt couldn’t see straight.

Were there three full bottles in front of him? He thought he only had one… hmm…

He reached forward to grab one and missed.

Fuck.

Missed again.

Got it!

Grinning triumphantly, he necked the bottle. The alcohol burned his throat on the way down.

Honestly, he wasn’t even sure what it was. But it was alcohol and he was drunk.

So. Fucking. Drunk.

Thank fuck.

“We’re closing, dude.”

Curt looked up in surprise, the motion made his head spin.

Oh.

Fuck.

He tried to give a thumbs up (but failed dismally) and stumbled his way outside.

It took three tries to unlock his car.

He slumped on the back seat.

This was fine.

He could deal with his shit in the morning.

He fell asleep.

* * *

Mrs. Mega had become more and more upset as the afternoon wore into evening wore into night.

By 2 am she had dried tear tracks on her face.

Owen wished he had a clue what was going on, because obviously he’d missed something important.

He didn’t understand why Curt wasn’t home yet.

And what if… they’d been staking out where he’d hid the box, so what if they knew he was here?

What if they were watching the safe house and had got Curt?

Oh fuck.

Owen felt his breathing pick up.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.

Count to 10, Owen, count to 10.

Curt’s fine. He’s probably just running late.

Count to 10.

He’ll be home soon.

Count to 10.

_He’s fine._

* * *

Curt groaned.

Fuck sunlight.

Fucking son of a bitch.

Curt rolled over and yelped when he fell off the car seats and onto the floor.

Well, this was his life now.

He smushed his face into the carpet, hoping he’d block out as much sun as possible.

Oh fuck.

Oh _fuck._

His mum was probably worried shit.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Curt peeled himself off the floor, desperately ignoring how his stomach rolled, and dragged himself round into the driver’s seat.

No biggie, Curt Mega, you’ve driven home hungover before.

He swallowed bile and kicked the car into gear.

* * *

It was mid afternoon the next day when Curt finally stumbled through the door.

Owen heard Mrs. Mega’s cry of relief.

He let out a shaky breath.

He’d spent the whole night, and that morning, going between panicking and crying, often both. He’d fallen asleep for a fitful hour but that’d been about it. Knowing Curt was home safe, though, he wanted to cry again.

Thank God.

* * *

His mum hadn’t stopped hugging him yet; which was really nice, he loved being hugged, but he was going to throw up.

He told her he’d be back in a moment, before stumbling into the bathroom and retching down the toilet.

When he came out, he found a glass of water waiting for him.

His mum was sat ramrod straight on the sofa.

“Why, Curt? You hadn’t drunk in days!”

Curt felt shame stir in his stomach. He wanted to throw up again.

He shrugged.

His mum burst into tears.

“Oh fuck, mom! Don’t cry, please don’t cry, I’m sorry!”

“Oh goodness,” his mum fought to keep her tears under control, “I just… I was so worried. Me and Owen both.”

“Owen was worried?” Perhaps not the most important part of that, but Curt needed to know.

“I don’t think he’ll admit it, but he was crying.”

 _Fuck_.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

“Just, why did you do that again? You said you were stopping!”

God, his head hurt. He just wanted this conversation to end.

“I dunno, mom, just… I’m sorry.”

His mum sniffled, then nodded. “Go lie down, baby.”

Curt did as she said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was actually a lot I wanted to put in this chapter that just didn't fit, so we'll see when that all comes up.
> 
> I hope I wrote drunk Curt okay? I have literally never been drunk; hell, I've only been slightly tipsy twice in my life, like I don't know how this works.
> 
> How do drunk people drunk?


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we're back to the fluff. Jeez, this fic is a rollercoaster.  
> (Another panic attack, and mentions of alcoholism)

Curt finally woke up again early morning the next day, before dawn even began to break. He had a message from Tatiana saying she was at headquarters and would come by when they’d finished the debrief.

He sighed; he truly hadn’t meant to worry anyone the day before. He wondered whether his mum had been telling the truth when she said that Owen had been crying.

He wasn’t sure which one he hoped it was.

He dragged himself out of bed and into the kitchen. The house was still dark and quiet, so he set about making coffee; he’d leave the breakfast for someone who could actually cook. As he waited for the kettle to boil, he found himself staring at Owen’s door.

He felt drained, empty. But he was thinking now.

What if Owen hadn’t set them up? And he’d shouted at him, he’d _shoved_ him.

He pulled down a second mug and a tea bag. He still remembered exactly how Owen liked it and found his hands doing the work without really having to think about it.

Carrying both mugs, he slipped quietly into Owen’s room.

The room was dark, Owen was asleep, but his brow furrowed, and his breath was fast, panicked.

Shit.

Curt itched to reach out and wake him up, but he knew that only made it worse.

He was powerless to do anything but watch and Owen twitched and flinched, whimpering. He brushed his hair out of face and stroked it slowly.

After a while, Owen’s eyes flickered open, and he became perfectly still.

“It’s just me, it’s okay. You’re safe.” Curt whispered, continuing to stroke his hair.

“Curt?” Owen sounded small, scared.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing here?”

Curt bit his lip. Instead of answering, he helped Owen into a sitting position and handed him the mug of tea. It was slightly lukewarm, but Owen accepted it all the same.

Perhaps in the daytime the anger would find its way to the surface, but in the dark, as the light of dawn just barely began to filter through the curtains, they were quiet.

Content.

* * *

Curt left the room as he heard his mother start moving around in the kitchen. They had barely spoken a word, simply sitting there quietly until the world woke up around them.

Curt wondered what Owen’s nightmare had been about.

He greeted his mum before going to wash up the mugs.

“Were you with Owen?”

“Yeah.”

“Did he tell you how he did in his knees again? He wouldn’t tell me.”

Curt startled. He turned to look at his mum, frowning.

“He messed up his knees?”

“Yes. He didn’t tell you?”

Curt turned back to the washing up, chewing his lip, thinking.

* * *

Owen stared at the ceiling in frustration; he couldn’t figure Curt out. He shouted at him, made it quite clear that he didn’t trust him, but then this morning was… it was okay.

He wished he understood what was going on in Curt’s head.

Speak of the devil, Curt pushed open the door holding two plates of pancakes. Owen knew he loved Mrs. Mega.

They ate in silence, and Owen had the distinct feeling that Curt was watching him. He tried not to let his discomfort show; he didn’t know what Curt was looking for and it was making him feel antsy. Finally, they finished eating and put their plates aside.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d hurt your knees again?”

Owen blinked. Fuck. He should’ve known Mrs. Mega would mention it.

“It’s not really a big deal, I mean-”

“Not a big deal?” Curt raised an eyebrow. “There’s no reason for you to have reinjured yourself, and you wouldn’t even tell mom how you did it.”

Owen swallowed past the lump in his throat. He’d never told Curt about his… episodes.

He was a spy.

He couldn’t have _episodes_.

Curt didn’t seem to fond of his silence. “Just tell me! What? You fucked up and thought you could stand up on them?”

Owen stared down at the bedsheets and shook his head.

“Then what? For fuck’s sake Owen…”

Curt’s voice was getting quieter. Tinnier.

Fuck. Not now. Count to ten.

“Owen!”

Owen jumped. He couldn’t breathe. No, no, no, no.

_He couldn’t breathe_.

* * *

Curt didn’t have a clue what was happening; Owen was gasping for breath, his head clutched in his hands, trembling, trembling, shaking.

He did the only thing he could think of and grabbed Owen into a hug.

Owen struggled, gasping, pushing against his chest.

“Shhh. It’s me Owen, you’re okay, you’re fine. You’re fine, Owen,” he kept murmuring over and over, rocking Owen back and forth gently.

He felt like an eternity before Owen’s breathing calmed down.

He sagged against his side.

“I’m sorry.” His voice was muffled by Curt’s shirt, but Curt heard it all the same.

“Don’t be sorry. What was that?”

“Don’t know. Just happens sometimes. Panic.”

“Is this what you did to your knees?”

He felt more than saw Owen shrug. He took it as a yes.

Had he caused that? Was he making Owen panic? He opened his mouth to ask.

He thought better of it.

If questioning Owen about his knees had made him panic just a bit ago, would asking him more make him panic again?

Instead, he pulled Owen closer and hugged him tightly.

He was finding it harder to think Owen was guilty; you don’t fake what just happened, and a guilty man wouldn’t have reacted like that.

He leant back against the headboard, pulling Owen with him. They sat there, silently.

Things seemed to go best when they were quiet, Curt thought. He wasn’t sure whether the thought amused him or not.

* * *

They spent about an hour cuddled up together on the bed.

Owen was tired but he had a question too. He pulled together then energy to ask.

“Curt?”

“Hmm?”

“Why has your mum banned alcohol?” Curt was silent.

“I just…” Owen began to feel a little nervous. “She said I should ask you, l-” he grit his teeth slightly, “she said I should ask you, love.” When no admonishment came, he felt himself relax again.

But Curt still didn’t answer.

“Are you okay?”

Curt blinked, looking at him in surprise. Owen wondered what had been going on in his head.

“Oh, yeah, fine…”

“So?”

Curt sighed. Pushing himself upright, he left the bed and slumped in the nearby chair. Owen felt the loss already; he half-wished he’d kept his mouth shut but he felt like he needed to know.

Curt wasn’t looking at him.

“Curt, please.”

“I didn’t cope well after… well, after.”

Owen had a sinking feeling. It was a feeling he’d already had, but he’d been refusing to acknowledge.

He was afraid he was right.

“What do you mean?”

Curt was silent for a few moments, chewing his lip. “I started drinking, didn’t want to think about…” He glared at his knees. “I blamed myself, you know?”

Owen felt his eyes sting.

He shifted towards Curt, careful not to move his knees too much again; he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he was slightly afraid of Mrs. Mega. He reached out a hand and took Curt’s in his.

He forced a slight smile.

“We’re a pair, aren’t we, love?”

Curt smiled shakily.

“Is that what you were doing the other night?”

Curt nodded. He glanced up. “ _Did_ you set an ambush for us?”

Owen felt like someone had thrown cold water over him.

“Do you _still_ believe I would do that to you? Curt, I lo-,” he swallowed the words he nearly said. “You have to know I wouldn’t, love, please.” He fought back his tears.

He’d thought Curt had come around.

Goddamn idiot.

“No, it’s not that, I just… I needed to be sure.”

“I don’t know how they knew, alright? I thought I’d lost the tail before I hid it.”

“How often were they following you?”

“They were always following me, love. Couldn’t breathe without them knowing.”

Curt frowned. “Then how do you know you didn’t lead them here?”

It was Owen’s turn to be unable to hold Curt’s gaze. “I… I think I lost them? But, I mean, I guess I thought I lost them then too, but I think… I mean we’d probably know if they’d managed to follow us, right?” He fiddled with the bedsheet with his free hand.

“I guess that explains why you double-backed on yourself so much. I thought you were trying to make it harder for me to follow you.”

Owen felt a smile flit across his face. “I could never shake you off, love, and you know it.”

Curt pulled his chin up to look him in the face. Owen could feel the warmth of his hand. Curt’s thumb swept at his cheek, and Owen’s breathe caught in his throat.

He was pretty sure he was flushed bright red.

“I believe you.”

Owen sagged into Curt’s hold; he hadn’t realised how much he’d needed to hear those words until they’d been said. Curt pulled his hand back and Owen felt the loss acutely; it took everything in him not to chase after it.

“What do you think they’ll do?” Curt murmured; he’d lowered his voice to almost a whisper.

“Hmm?”

“About our secret? If they know you betrayed them… might they…” Curt looked away.

Owen felt guilt crushing him; this was all his fault, and he knew it.

“I don’t know, love, I really don’t.”

Curt nodded to himself.

“I suppose… if there’s a chance I should probably… at least… tell my mom.” Owen could see how he had to swallow past the lump in his throat, his body trembling; tears slipped out of his eyes without fanfare.

“Whatever you do, love, I’m here.”

Curt gave him a shaky smile, before wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Do you think she’ll still love me?”

“I don’t think she ever could not.” He reached out a nudged him lightly on the shoulder. “Anyway, I think I’m the one who has to worry about your mum – if you tell her about us.”

“She loves you, Owen, you’ll be fine.”

“She loves you more.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly I have no idea what this fic is doing anymore - it was getting fluffy, then angsty, now we're back to the fluff.  
> I mean, boys, if you just talked in the first place instead of acting on your emotions maybe this fic would've finished by now. (They may be dumbasses but they're my dumbasses).
> 
> Also, I guess it might be kinda weird that Owen can call Curt love but still can't say I love you? But I feel like they're really different? Calling him love is just a pet name, but if he actually said "I love you"? Nah bro, that's serious business.
> 
> And don't just grab people having panic attacks. That a bad, Curt. Jesus.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (this chapter includes homophobia, and allusions to alcoholism)

Curt was terrified.

Absolutely terrified.

He’d been tortured, shot out, hell, he’d even once spent a whole day hiding in a building filled with enemy agents when the extraction failed; but here and now, staring at his mum from behind the door, trying to pull together the confidence to tell her the biggest secret he’d ever kept? He was more terrified than he’d ever been in his life.

“Curt? I know you’re there, honey.”

Curt jumped out of his skin.

“Now, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” She patted the space next to her on the sofa, gesturing him over. Curt gingerly sat down.

“Nothing’s wrong, mom, I just…” fuck.

He couldn’t do this.

But he had to.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“You love me, right?”

His mum turned sharply to look at him. “Of course I love you, you idiot! What brought this on?”

Curt fiddled with his hands in his lap.

“Would you still love me if I…” fuck. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, his hands were clammy, he thought he was going to be sick.

“If you were what, baby?”

“Mom...” he took a deep breath in. “I don’t like girls.”

His mum looked confused. “But you’re dating Tatiana?”

“What? No! No, no, no. What made you think I’m dating _Tatiana_?!” The shock momentarily made Curt forget he was supposed to be terrified.

“You kissed her?”

“We- you were watching? Mom!!!” Curt took a breath. “That was a… bad decision. It won’t ever happen again.”

She looked struck. “I thought you’d finally… what do you mean you don’t like girls?!”

Fuck. He was terrified again.

“I don’t like girls, mom.

“I like boys.”

His mom stared at him. “What do you mean you like boys?”

Curt flinched. He hadn’t really been prepared to talk about this any further than he already had. “I just… like them?”

“Like a sodomite?”

Curt felt himself curling up. He nodded.

“You’re a sodomite? My son’s a…” She stood up. “You’re one of _those_ , Curt?”

Curt felt his stomach drop out of him. She hated him, she _hated_ him. His mum was still rambling.

“My own son… who did this to you, baby?”

That startled him. “No one did this to me, mom! I just-”

“Owen.”

Fuck. His mum was staring at him as if all the answers to the universe had just appeared before her.

“It was him, wasn’t it? I’m right; I know I’m right.” She turned towards the bedroom door; Curt reached out and grabbed her dress.

“Mom! He didn’t… do anything to me! I’m just... I’m sorry, mom; I’ve always been like this.”

She was crying.

She was crying and it was all his fault.

He was crying too.

“Please don’t hate me, mom. _Please_.” Curt hated how pathetic his voice sounded, how desperately he begged.

His mom removed his hand from her dress gently; Curt realised her hands were trembling.

Or was it that _his_ hands were trembling?

“I love you, baby; I could never hate you, but…” she paused for a second, mouth working but no words coming out. “I just…”

She shook her head.

She walked away.

Curt burst into tears, trembling where he sat. When they finally began to dry, he threw himself to his feet and snatched his keys from the side table.

He couldn’t do this sober.

He was a fucking failure and an awful son and he couldn’t do this sober.

* * *

Owen was worried; Curt hadn’t come back after going to tell his mum. He’d _promised_ he’d come back and tell him how it went.

But it’d been at least an hour since he’d gone.

They couldn’t have been talking that long, could they?

Not for the first time, Owen resented the fact that his legs were out of commission; he wanted to go find Curt, at least take a peak out of the door. But he couldn’t. Because he was useless.

It was infuriating.

The door swung open, but Owen’s greeting died on his lips when he saw it was Mrs. Mega. She was tight-lipped, her face tightly controlled.

Fuck.

She placed a mug of tea on the side before sitting in the chair next to the bed. She stared at him, appraisingly, and Owen felt very much like a bug under a microscope.

“Ma’am?”

“My son, Cavour. He is my son and I love him with all my heart, and yet you would come in and corrupt-”

“With all due respect, ma’am, I never-”

“Do not interrupt me.”

Owen swallowed. This was bad. This was very bad. And where was Curt?

“He is my son, and I don’t know what you did to lead him astray, but I cannot have him-”

Fuck it.

“Ma’am! I do not care if you hate me or not, but don’t you _dare_ ever speak anything ill of Curt! He does not do anything he doesn’t want to!”

“I told you not to-”

“No! He is your _son,_ Mrs. Mega, and he loves you more than anything.”

“And yet he would run around with _you._ ”

That stung. But this wasn’t about him, this was about _Curt._ God, where was he? Was he okay? Owen knew the answer would be no.

_Where was he_.

“If he chooses to be with me, and God knows I don’t understand it either, then that is _his_ choice.”

“Then why didn’t he choose to like that lovely red-head?”

“That’s not-” Owen made a sound of frustration. “If he chooses to be with _me_ , that is not the same as choosing to like _men_. With all due respect, ma’am, could you choose to love a woman?”

“No, of course n-”

“Then what makes you think Curt could? What makes you think I could? All I know is he _loves_ you, Mrs. Mega, and your opinion means everything to him.”

Mrs. Mega stared at him silently for a few moments before seeming to deflate. “But _why_ would he like men?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, ma’am; it’s just the way we are.” Owen’s heart was pounding in his chest, but he held tight. _For Curt_ , he told himself silently.

“Surely he cannot _love_ you though. That’s… it’s obscene!”

Owen flinched. “It is not up to us to decide what is obscene or not, all I know is I cannot help how I feel about your son, and if, by some miracle, he feels the same about me, then I am sure he cannot help it either.”

“Do you love my son, Owen?”

He blinked, the question catching him off guard.

He’d never said it out loud before. Sure, it was in the letter he’d written before… before Curt had spared him, and wasn’t that something he hadn’t thought about enough, but saying it aloud…

He realised he’d been quiet far too long.

“I… I do, ma’am, more than anything.”

Mrs. Mega slumped back into the chair before rubbing a hand over her face. “Why didn’t he tell me?”

Owen looked her straight in the eyes; “he was afraid you would react like this.”

She looked taken aback. “Yes… yes, I suppose that’s…” she frowned. “Did he come see you after… after our conversation?”

“No, I don’t know where he is.”

Mrs. Mega swore.

“He’s left again, hasn’t he?”

Mrs. Mega wouldn’t look him in the eyes. Owen’s heart ached for Curt, he wished he could go find him.

But he stuck in this bloody bed with these fucked up knees, so that was a no go.

“Go find him, ma’am.”

“I couldn’t poss-”

“Go! Just… please.”

Mrs. Mega went.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, but it was always going to happen this way.
> 
> I actually had a really hard time writing this (my own parents didn't have the greatest reaction when I came out as bi) so I had to take a bunch of breaks while writing, but as I said, she was always going to have this reaction so it had to be done.
> 
> Owen is an anxious bean but as soon as he hears that Curt is upset he's like fight me. It's like when you can't go ask for more ketchup yourself, but as soon as your friend needs it you're out of your seat - anxiety overridden by the power of the mom friend.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Curt goes home to a couple of well-needed conversations.

Curt necked another drink; the sooner he was drunk the better.

He barely noticed when someone sat down next to him, too busy concentrating on trying to get the lid off the next bottle. Whoever it was grabbed his hands and took the bottle from him.

How fucking dare-

He turned to his right, ready to give whoever it was a piece of his mind. His mom’s eyes were red-rimmed.

Aw fuck.

“Mom! Mom. Hi, mom!” He swayed slightly in his seat. “I’m sorry, y’know. I wanted to be a good son but… I’m a fucking failure.” And with that, he promptly burst into tears.

He felt his mum gently pull him out of the seat and guide him out of the pub with an arm around him. He vaguely heard her mention something about home. She pushed him into the passenger seat of her car.

“Wait, wait, mom. My car?”

“We’ll pick it up tomorrow, Curt.”

“Oh.”

And with that they both lapsed into silence, save for Curt’s occasional sniffles. Trees passed the car quickly; Curt was pretty sure his mum was speeding. He stared out of the car.

“Owen’s very protective.”

Curt startled. “You spoke to- mom! I told you it wasn’t his fault!”

Her grip was tight on the steering wheel, knuckles white. “Do you love him, Curt?”

Curt sat there, mouth hanging open, before his brain finally processed the question. He was _way_ too drunk to have this conversation (or not drunk enough?)

“Uhhh, I, well, that is, I, uhm…” Curt fumbled for an answer. What answer did she want? Would she be more upset if he said yes?

She didn’t like him being gay.

“No?”

“Is that a question or a sentence?”

Curt shrugged.

“He seems to love you. I… will not to pretend to understand why you are together, but… if you are stringing him along.”

Shit, he’d given the wrong answer.

“Wait, that’s not… I thought you didn’t want me-?”

His mum sighed. “I want honesty, Curt. Do you love him?”

“Y-yes. I do.”

“Are you being honest now?”

“Yeah.”

His mum nodded. With that, they lapsed into silence again.

Curt stared out the window.

Wait.

Owen loved him?

* * *

Owen heard the front door open and a muffled conversation. It was only a few moments until his bedroom door opened and Curt stumbled in; he’d very clearly been drinking, but at least he wasn’t wasted, probably just slightly more than tipsy. He dropped himself heavily into the chair.

“Hey,” Owen said quietly. Curt was silent for a few moments, just staring at the floor.

“Sorry I didn’t come in… after…”

“It’s oka-”

“It’s not.”

Owen chewed his lip, before shifting to the side and patting the bed. Curt glanced at the door before staring back at the floor.

Curt looked up.

“Did you really tell my mom you love me?”

Shit. Owen was not prepared for this conversation; he’d really hoped that Mrs. Mega would keep that to herself.

“I...” shit.

Curt was still watching him, waiting.

“I mean… that is to say that I…”

“Just tell me.”

Owen look down at the bedsheets, twisting them tightly in his hands. “It is possible that I… perchance… may have feelings for you.”

“So that’s a yes.”

Owen swallowed, and then, barely above a whisper: “that’s a yes.”

“Could you say it? Please, Owen.”

“Darling, please.”

“ _Owen_.”

Owen bit his lip. It shouldn’t be this hard to say, he knew that, but he felt like saying the words would change everything. Curt was still watching him.

“I… I love you.” Owen slumped in on himself, trembling.

“Good,” Owen was startled by Curt climbing into the bed next to him, “because I think I just might love you too.”

Then they were both crying.

Owen didn’t know what would happen with Mrs. Mega, whether she’d ever come around to, or at least tolerate, his relationship with her son.

But he knew one thing: he could deal with it as long as he was with Curt.

* * *

Curt stared at the man next to him, drinking in his features. Owen’s eyes were closed, but Curt knew he wasn’t quite asleep; still, he looked peaceful like this. Younger.

He couldn’t believe Owen loved him, even after everything. He supposed it was obvious in hindsight; the way Owen treated him, of course he loved him. Curt smiled to himself.

“What’s got you smiling?” Owen murmured; his eyes opened a crack.

“You love me.”

Owen let out a huff of a laugh. “You love me too.”

Curt leaned over and kissed Owen on the cheek. “True.”

They lay there in a comfortable silence, taking in the warmth of each other’s bodies, pressed against each other. After a few minutes, Curt broke the silence.

“Sorry my mom came in here… after.”

Owen hummed. “It’s quite alright, love.”

“She wasn’t too harsh on you, right?”

“I fear I may have been too harsh on _her_. She loves you dearly, darling; perhaps she is misplaced in what the love means, but she’d do anything for you.”

Curt groaned. “What did she say to you?”

Owen laughed quietly. “She seems to believe I corrupted you-”

“Oh God-”

“But I told her, you know, Curt corrupts himself well enough without my help.” Owen gave him half a smile, nearer a smirk.

“Fuck off.”

Owen laughed genuinely at that.

* * *

It was a few hours later when Mrs. Mega knocked on the door.

“Curt? Can we talk, please?”

Curt groaned, pulling himself out of the bed. Owen caught his hand on the way out.

“Promise me you’ll come back.”

“I promis-”

“ _Promise me_.” Owen stared him down.

“I really do promise – I won’t leave, Owen. I won’t.” Owen kept staring at him for a few moments, but what he saw must’ve satisfied him because he let him go.

Smiling slightly, he murmured, “love you.” Curt laughed. “I can say that now – I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Curt left, still feeling light from their conversation. Sure, he was terrified of his mum, but _Owen love him_. Maybe some things do go his way after all.

His mum was sat on the sofa, waiting; Curt perched himself down next to her.

“I’m sorry, Curt.” Curt turned to look at her.

“Wh-?”

“It has been brought to my attention that… I might have been unfair.”

“Owen said he might have been too harsh on you.”

“Not harsh enough.” His mum sighed. “I love you, baby, more than anything in this world. I know… I know you don’t believe in God but I…” she looked down at her hands curling in her dress. “I can’t help but fear for your soul.”

Cut smiled sadly. “Honestly, mom, I don’t think loving Owen is what’s going to push me over the edge.”

She sniffled. “It was fairly obvious now that I think about it… goodness, how did I ever believe you were into women!”

“Hey! I wasn’t that obvious!”

She cut him a look. “Hindsight may be a bitch, darling, but Lord Almighty, how did I never figure out what your drinking buddies were.”

Curt choked. “That’s not- I didn’t- That- I- _Mom!_ ”

She laughed quietly, but the smile faded from her face. She sniffed. “I don’t understand this, Curt, and I can’t say I approve, but… does he make you happy?”

“Yeah, mom, he does.”

“Then…” his mum sniffed again. “That’s all I ever wanted, baby: for you to be happy.” She reached out and pulled him into a hug. They sat there, clinging tightly to each other as they cried.

“But.” Curt froze when his mum spoke. “I do expect you to learn to do some of the housework; Owen can’t do everything; at least learn to cook!”

Curt let out something that was somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “I don’t think I’ll ever learn how to cook, mom.”

“Yes… probably better you don’t burn down the house.”

She sighed, pushing herself up and out of the embrace.

“I don’t understand this at all, baby, but… I love you. I’ll try.”

“That’s all I’m asking for, mom.”

She kissed him on the forehead, before wiping her eyes and standing up. “Now, go on back to that boy of yours, Curt; he’s probably waiting for you.”

Curt stood up. Just before leaving, her turned back. “I love you too, mom.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” she huffed, “now go on! Shoo.”

Curt laughed quietly as he slipped back into Owen’s room.

“How did it go?”

“Well,” he nodded. “It went well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit, I aww'ed while writing this. I also wrote it at 6am and I haven't slept yet so it might be completely nonsensical (I'm fine shhhhh).
> 
> This is going to be my last update for a week though, I'm afraid - I'm going on holiday in less than 24 hours, and I'll be back Saturday evening (my time). I might get a chapter out at the weekend, I'm not sure.  
> Either way, I'll see you in a few!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a super short one I'm afraid.

Both Owen and Curt startled when the door opened, Owen blinking awake quickly. Tatiana marched through and sat down on the empty chair, turning to face the two boys on the bed.

“We found the box. It was intact.” Owen let out a sigh of relief; he’d been worried that if they’d known where the box was… “I suspect they did not know where the box was hidden exactly, only possible places. They might not have even known there was anything you had hidden.”

Owen nodded. “That’s… a relief. I was rather worried I might have led them here.”

“I think we would know if you had.”

Curt piped up. “What actually was in the box?”

“Everything I knew; plans, locations, known members. Everything.”

“Huh.”

Tatiana sighed. “Cynthia is… happy with the info for now, but she already suspects. I told her we had taken Owen’s journal, but I believe she knows this is a lie.”

“Wait, how do you know about my-”

“Spy, Owen.”

Owen stared at her suspiciously, before surreptitiously checking to see whether his journal was still where he’d hidden it. It was.

Phew.

Tatiana just looked faintly amused.

“So,” Curt said suddenly, “if she suspects, do you think she’ll come by here?”

“I hope not but it is a possibility.”

Curt swore. Owen didn’t feel much better about the whole situation; he liked having all his limbs, thank you very much, and he doubted Cynthia would be quite so ready to accept that he’d never wanted to work for the other side.

Maybe all the info he’d provided could mollify her?

Tatiana spoke up again. “We have assembled a number of teams to track down the information, but it’s possible they already know they have been compromised. We will have to try but… I cannot predict how much we will get from it. I am heading one of the teams; if you need to talk to me, call Barb.”

With that, she stood back up and left the room. Owen sighed in Curt’s shoulder; “she certainly doesn’t faff about, now does she?”

Curt shook his head with a bemused look.

“Well, there’s nothing more we can do, so if you don’t mind, I’m going back to sleep.” With that, Owen curled back up into Curt’s side. He felt Curt’s hand run through his hair as he drifted off; it couldn’t have been more than five minutes before he was dead to the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am way more knackered than I expected to be after Disney (maaaaybe 4 days of straight Disney was a bit hard on me but I can't help it if Tokyo has TWO parks!!) and am having a period of pretty bad fatigue, so I'm really having a hard time finding the energy to write anything.
> 
> I did feel bad leaving you without anything though, so this is maybe a quarter of the chapter I'd planned to write next? Idk, it is what it is. I'll be back with something a bit more substantial when I'm not falling asleep where I am.
> 
> Again, sorry it's so short, but I'd said probably at the weekend and it's now Tuesday, so I really wanted to get something out.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is mostly fluff, but warnings for some self-hatred.

Owen’s knees fucking hurt.

He still wasn’t allowed to stand up but Mrs. Mega had finally allowed him to start some strengthening exercises; but without painkillers, he was suffering for it. He hated feelings like this – weak, pathetic, _useless_.

He hated being useless.

He joined the Secret Service to stop being so useless, but here he was; still useless.

Owen sighed, putting a bookmark between the pages of the book he’d been attempting to read; he wasn’t going to be able to read anything in this state.

I he hadn’t fucking panicked then maybe he’d be able to stand up by now.

Owen hated himself.

He shook his head. Curt had always hated it when he’d talked about himself like that; whether it was true or not, he didn’t want to disappoint Curt.

He still couldn’t believe Curt actually loved him, didn’t really understand why. Part of him, a big part, felt like at any moment Curt would turn around and realise what a huge mistake he was.

But would it be so selfish to cling to it while he had it?

Maybe. He would anyway.

* * *

Curt curled up with his mum on the sofa. She still seemed a little tense, but he knew she making an effort.

He only hoped she could come to terms with it; he didn’t know what he’d do if she didn’t.

“What are you thinking about, baby?”

“Just…” he chewed his lip. “I’m glad you still love me.” His mum tensed in surprise.

“That’s… oh, baby, how could I ever not?”

“And Owen?”

“He…” she laughed quietly. “Goodness, however many times did I tell you his girl would be lucky to have him?”

“A lot.”

She laughed again. “And all along, you were his girl.”

“Mom! I’m n-” you know what? Not worth the fight.

She pulled him tighter against her. “I… to be honest, baby, I do find myself struggling with it… but I love you more than any book or law. If anyone ever tries to hurt you for this, baby, just tell me and I will kill every last one of them and smile as I do it.”

Yup. She definitely still loved him.

“Mom?”

“Yes, baby.”

“I feel like… I keep messing up… with Owen.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just… like…” fuuuuck talking to people was hard. “Like, Owen tells us he hid this thing out in Russia, right? So we send a team, but there’s an ambush.”

His mum nodded. “Yes, Tatiana mentioned something to that effect.”

“Well, I blamed Owen.” She looked at him in surprise. “I know, I know, I just… I don’t know why?! It’s so stupid now that I think about it! _Of course_ he didn’t set us up. Why do I keep doing this?”

Mrs. Mega shifted so she was looking straight at him. “Curt, baby. You act like that because you have always been so emotional; act first, think later.” She stroked his hair out of his face. “Next time, and there will be a next time, think before you act. Acting first kept you alive in the field, baby, but it’s not very good for relationships.”

“What if I do it again anyway?”

“You apologise, and you try.”

* * *

Owen was writing in his journal when Curt entered the room. He tensed, about to snap it closed, before forcing himself to calm down. He still closed it gently, though, and slipped it away inside the pillow.

A basic hiding spot, perhaps, but seeing as he couldn’t leave the bed it was a fairly decent one.

Curt slipped into the bed next to him.

“How are your knees?”

“Ow.”

“Noted.”

Curt kissed him on the side of his head. “Need me to kiss them better?”

Owen gave him the driest look he could conjure up. “You just want to get under the blankets, you dirty shit.”

“Can’t blame a man for trying.”

Owen rolled his eyes. He was not smiling. Not at all.

“I am _in pain,_ you prick.”

“Never stopped you bef-mmph” Curt glowered from behind Owen’s hand.

“Say that to my face yo- did you just lick me?” He snatched his hand away; Curt grinned wickedly. Owen settled for wiping his hand on Curt’s t-shirt. “You’re disgusting.”

“Awwww, you love it.”

“Hmm, it seems so.”

He’d missed this man. Childishness included.

* * *

Mrs. Mega came in the next morning to continue his leg exercises. Owen couldn’t wait to be up and about again. They had finished the exercises and were now drinking tea; talking. Curt had been sent for the food shopping. Plus side of having fucked knees: no chores.

“I have managed to get some crutches; I’ll be picking them up tomorrow.”

Yessssssss. He would do all the chores if he could walk again. Well, maybe not all; laundry is an evil beast after all, but most!

“Also knee braces. I don’t trust your knees right now.”

Fair.

Owen drummed his fingers on the side of his mug. “Mrs. Mega?”

“Hmm?”

“If you don’t mind me asking, you seemed rather upset with me just a couple days ago. I don’t want to… well, I was just wondering why you’ve been treating me so nicely?”

She stared at him like he’d grown three heads. “First of all, dear, call me Marie; you’re starting to give me toothache with those overly-sweetened manners of yours. Yes, it’s all very nice that you’re polite, but goodness, you’re dating my son!” She blinked. “And as for dating my son… I look at the both of you and I… I loved his father. But I don’t think either of us loved each other like you two do; I wouldn’t have… if the world had told me I couldn’t be with him? Curt wouldn’t be here.”

“Mrs- Marie…”

“I’m not done.” She sighed. “But you two… any moment you could be found out and what would that mean? It would be the end of everything… and don’t think I don’t know what it would mean for you back in England!” Owen fiddled with the bedsheets, a lump in his throat. “Yes… I did my research, dear, and I… if you two love each other enough to risk that? Maybe you are fools… but I cannot deny that you love each other.”

Owen felt tears slipping down his face and tried to surreptitiously wipe them away. Marie huffed and pulled out a handkerchief; instead of handing it to him, though, she reached out and wiped away his tears herself.

“Curt told me you have no family?”

Owen nodded, sniffing.

“You are part of this family now.”

Owen only cried harder. She pulled him into a hug and held him tight.

* * *

Curt stared suspiciously at Owen; his eyes were still ever so slightly red-rimmed. He definitely did a good job of hiding it, but Curt knew he’d been crying.

“What happened?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve been crying.”

Owen startled, as if he hadn’t realised Curt would be able to tell. “Oh... they’re happy tears, I promise love.”

“Happy tears?”

“I think your mum’s going to be just fine with us.”

Curt sat down next to him. “Really?”

Owen just smiled gently before pulling him in to a hug, clutching the fabric of his jacket tight in his hands.

“I love you,” he murmured, “no matter what happens.”

Curt scoffed. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

“Maybe, maybe not; you know we can’t make promises. Regardless; I love you.”

Curt chewed over his words. Owen was right of course; with what Chimera knew everything could come falling down tomorrow.

“I love you too. We’re going to wear that out, you know? ‘I love you.’”

“Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *rises from the ashes* I live!
> 
> I'm still not 100%, not even close, but I finally found the energy to write something. I will admit, this chapter is just pure indulgence, but dammit! I will write what I want! If that is tooth-rotting fluff then so be it!
> 
> Though, Tatiana was supposed to give Curt his words of wisdom in this chapter, but I accidentally sent her off on mission during my stint in "fatigued fan-fic writing, featuring brain fog," so the newly dubbed Marie Mega had to take that up (I totally didn't google popular girl's names in the 1910's *ahem*)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Achievement unlocked: Mrs. Mega's relationship problems

Curt finished putting clothes into the washing machine just as his mother left Owen’s bedroom; she smiled at him.

“Thank you, baby. I’m about to put the kettle on, would you take Owen’s tea to him when it’s ready? Oh, and I’ll be leaving for the rest of the day; I need to go pick up his crutches and knee braces.”

“Sure, mom.” He straightened up as the machine whirred into life. “How’s he doing? His knees, I mean.”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Curt huffed. “He… he mentions them hurting from time to time? But… he doesn’t really talk about them… he doesn’t really talk about _anything_ in depth. I mean, I barely even know anything about what happened to him or-”

“Then talk to him, you silly boy! Owen… I think he feels guilty.”

“About what?”

“How should I know? I’m not dating him.”

Curt rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind the action. “I just… I don’t want to push him too far? What if I ask too much and he closes off? Or-”

“Curt,” she said fondly, “even if you bottle up every question, they’ll find a way to come out somehow. You can either start asking now or wait until you have so many questions they force themselves out, and is that going to be good for either of you?” She put the kettle on top of the hob and sighed. “Come sit with me, baby.”

She sat down heavily on the sofa pulled him tightly to her side. “I never really told you why your father left, did I?”

“He was a deadbeat prick?”

“No… that was,” she chewed her lip, “that was unfair of me.” She brushed his hair out of face, staring at him fondly. “He was a lot like you… and when I got pregnant… it was an accident, but we were both young and stupid. I didn’t want to tell him, thought he’d be angry, so I kept it quiet; but it’s hard to hide something like that, so I just stopped talking to him, stopped spending time with him.

“I was scared and young. Your father, he never asked about it, and to be honest it hurt. I thought _doesn’t he love me enough to ask me to stay?_ Then one day he cornered me before I could leave the house. _You been fucking someone else?_ I said no, I said no over and over again, I told him the truth, but he had this idea in his head and he truly, truly believed it, so nothing I said would convince him.

“So he left, and I never saw him again. And I didn’t tell him because I was scared I’d lose him if I did, but it turned out I lost him because I didn’t. …I hated him for years, baby, thought _why couldn’t he just trust me? Why couldn’t he have just listened to me?_ But… I see him in you. So, my darling, _please_ ask Owen what’s on your mind, or you’ll do just what your father did, and you’ll end up just like your father has, wherever that is, doing whatever he does. I used to hope he was angry and unhappy, I used to hope he regretted every decision, but now… I understand him better. I doesn’t make what he did okay, but I wish someone had been there to tell him not to make those mistakes.

“Please, baby, don’t make those mistakes.”

Curt brought a trembling hand up to his mum’s face, shakily wiping away the tears that had begun shortly after she started talking.

“I promise, mom; I’ll talk to him, I swear.”

“You’re a good boy, Curt,” she sniffed, “just… be patient, be kind, and don’t jump to conclusions. Whatever you’re scared of knowing, Owen loves you. Don’t break his heart.”

Curt smiled gently, “isn’t it usually that the parents don’t want the boyfriend to break their child’s heart?”

“Well you’re not exactly a typical relationship, now are you?”

Curt gasped, mock-offended, with a hand dramatically placed on his heart “now _what_ do you mean by that?”

She simply laughed, before kissing him on the top of the head.

“I love you, baby, no matter what happens.”

Curt opened his mouth to reply when the whistle of the kettle cut through the room.

Fucking kettle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is really short and I was going to write more but it just felt weird; this is so intensely focuses on Curt and Mrs Mega's heart to heart that moving on to anything else just didn't feel right.
> 
> I'd rather have a short chapter that flowed than a long one that didn't.
> 
> Honestly, though, I didn't have this planned for Mr. and Mrs. Mega; at the beginning he was just a deadbeat dad who fucked off when he found out his wife was pregnant, but that started to just feel wrong. And I liked the idea that Mrs. Mega would start to see things in a different light when watching Curt and Owen's interactions, almost getting to see her husband's thought process through the eyes of her son. This doesn't absolve Mr. Mega by any means, but it felt right to have this.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am alive and Owen is sad.  
> Very sad.

Owen was reading again when Curt entered the room, but immediately looked up and smiled. He looked happier, freer.

It was nice to see.

But still.

Curt curled up on the bed next to him, lying his head on his shoulder.

“Owen?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened with Chimera?”

Owen froze. “I’ve told you, they-”

“You told me they blackmailed you. That’s it. There’s more, you and I both know there’s always more.”

Owen stared at his hands as they finely trembled. Curt wished he knew what he was thinking, wished he knew how to make him stop being so scared at the mere mention of Chimera. Perhaps his curiosity wasn’t fair to Owen? Perhaps it wasn’t any of his business, or maybe Owen just wasn’t ready to tell him and he ought to respect that.

He should just apologise and more the conversations on to lighter things, that would be a much better ide-

“I didn’t have a name.”

“What?”

“Owen. I almost forgot it. I suppose… I wasn’t really a person, was I? Stopped being a person the moment they…” he sighed. “No, I should… start from the beginning, I suppose.” He pulled away from Curt, shaking his head as he went to chase after him, to curl back up together. “I’ll tell you I just… I can’t…” he shuddered. “Just don’t touch me until I’m finished, _please_.”

Curt nodded, finding himself unable to speak.

“They found me some time after the building exploded. I didn’t even know who they were, couldn’t see, couldn’t think. For a moment I thought you’d come back for me… I still wonder why you didn’t… but that’s not”- He visibly shook himself. “I don’t remember much from those first few months… just pain. It hurt. Now I wonder how much of that pain was from the explosion… wouldn’t be surprised if they’d been doing things. Making it last longer. Making it hurt more.” He blinked. “Sorry, getting off track again.

“They never called me Owen. Always soldier. I hate that word: _soldier_. That’s all I was… they told me you left me on purpose, told me MI6 had been gunning to get rid of me. I didn’t believe it, I swear. _I swear_. But then… they got angry. I wasn’t listening.

“There were no windows. They stopped coming in. Stopped talking to me. I just…” he worried his bottom lip. “I was scared,” he admitted quietly, “I don’t know how long they left me like that. I’ll probably never know; _I don’t want to_ _know._ When they came back, I almost gave them everything. Almost. But still… I refused, and he laughed. He laughed straight in my face.” His voice dropped to a hoarse whisper, as if unable to give the words any volume: “ _come on now soldier, of course you’ll work for us. It’s what you’re made to do._

“They hurt me for months, maybe longer, I don't know. They… and then I…” He shook his head. “Then they had us, and they asked me to work for them again. And God help me, I did it. I was they’re stupid fucking _bitch_ ,” His face contorted in anger, fingers digging into their arm. “I told myself I was doing it to protect you, but was I? Or was I just tired of resisting, I don’t fucking know! Maybe I’m just weak and it was the perfect fucking excuse to just give in like I al-”

“ _Owen.”_ Owen blinked, seemed surprised that Curt was there. He waved off his concern.

“I did everything they wanted me to. There’s so much blood, Curt; I still see red whenever I look at my hands. I still hear screaming; I’ll always hear screaming.

“You shouldn’t love me, Curt. I’m a monster; I’m a monster and I don’t think I can put into words exactly how much of a monster I am.”

Curt shook his head. “You’re not, Owen; you _never will be_. _It’s not your fault.”_

Owen let out a sob. “It is, Curt, and it always will be.” He rubbed his face with his hands. “I can’t… I wish I could be the man you think I am.”

Curt reached out his hand, laying it on the bed and waiting until Owen hesitantly reached out his own hand to meet it; “ _you are._ You are _exactly_ the man I think you are, and I love that man. I’ll always love that man. You are not what they made you do.”

Curt didn’t think Owen believed him, and maybe he’d spend the rest of their lives trying to convince him. It’d be worth it, though. It truly would.

* * *

Mrs. Mega had finally got Owen up and about on crutches, and now Owen had bodily autonomy he was point black refusing to go back into his room.

It felt freeing.

It was a fucking living room, but oh my god, he decided he _loved_ sofas. Sofas were great, much better than beds; why didn’t they have sofas everywhere!

And a fireplace! The weather was getting colder, so he was relieved to be able to sit in front of a fire rather than having to bundle himself up in layer upon layer of blankets. Mrs; Mega’s windows let in a huge draft and it made the room bloody freezing (not that he’d ever be seen doing anything even close to complaining when Mrs. Mega had given up and entire room to him and then said he was _part of the family_. But still. Cold).

He didn’t feel any better after telling Curt about everything.

He still felt so guilty.

Perhaps if he told him-

No.

He would just lose him.

Curt would be happier not knowing that, and that was the most important thing. He could suffer a little longer if it meant Curt could be happy.

He could suffer forever for that.

He reached into his pocket and pulled on the journal. Let it fall open to the letter.

How could he have ever believed Curt would kill him?

He thumbed the letter with a small smile. It wasn’t needed anymore.

* * *

Curt entered the room to find Owen sat on the floor, burning something in the fireplace.

Not an everyday sight but he could deal.

He made a noise that vaguely translated to _????????_ and Owen looked up in surprise.

“Oh, I just…” he pocked the paper further into the fire. “It’s not important.”

Curt narrowed his eyes, looking over at the paper. He could make out his name among the flames.

“Is that about me? Seems important.”

Owen groaned. “No, it’s _to_ you. There’s a difference.”

Curt raised an eyebrow. “Only seeming more important.”

“ _Love._ ”

“ _Baby._ ”

“Oh, ew, no, don’t call me that.”

“Maybe if you tell me what was in that letter, _baby_ , I won’t.”

“ _Curt._ ”

“ _Baby._ ”

“Ugh, fine. I just… before… before you caught up with me. I didn’t know if you’d… did you truly think I hated you?”

Curt blinked in surprised. “I… didn’t want to believe it, but I… I guess.”

Owen nodded. “I didn’t know if you’d… if you’d _kill_ me. I know that’s stupid but I… in case you did… I needed you to know.”

Curt knelt down next to him, pulling him into his arms. “I thought I was going to, for just a second… but you didn’t look right. You… I had a hunch. I could never have killed you, not with you in front of me like that.”

“I know, I was stupid to think it.”

“No, you weren’t. Prepare for the worst, ey?”

Owen let out a small laugh. “Yeah.”

“For the record, I’m glad I didn’t kill you.”

Owen pressed a tearful smile into his shoulder. “I… I think I’m glad you didn’t kill me too.”

“Besides,” Curt said, lifting Owen’s head from his shoulder, “I wouldn’t have been able to do this.”

Then he was kissing him, gently, _lovingly_.

Curt felt Owen’s tears slip down his cheeks.

He only hoped he could help him.

* * *

Owen felt the guilt coil deep within his gut.

Perhaps one day he would feel worthy of Curt’s love again.

One day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you might be thinking who the fuck is this? That's fair.
> 
> I'm terribly sorry I disappeared - my health, especially my fatigue, has been really bad for quite a while and I've been unable to write; like, if I'm not at work I'm asleep kinda situation. I am chronically ill, and the unfortunate curse is sometimes chronic illness just fucks you up. I have learnt to accept that I will never be well, but that doesn't make day to day life easy to bear. I can't promise I won't disappear again, but I can tell you I have full plans to finish this and that any disappearances are not by choice.
> 
> I hope this chapter was worth the wait.
> 
> Love you all <3
> 
> (P.S. I am slowly coming to realise how often I write 'character blinked.' Yes, that is was humans do, Aiya, well done)


	16. Chapter 16

The world ended the way worlds do.

With a tiny little moment.

One small break in the silence leaving ripples that shake and shatter, leaving nothing but destruction in its wake. Of course, the moment began before then, with choices and biases and all manner of other things, but people tend to remember the little moments.

Where were you when the world fell apart?

Curt and Owen were curled up on the sofa, Curt pretending to listen to Owen read a story while his mind wandered. They were as happy as they could have been, as content as their lives would let them be at that moment in time.

And then the communicator beeped.

One tiny little moment.

And the world falls apart.

* * *

Curt answered the communicator.

“Curt?”

“Barb?”

There was silence on the other side of the communicator. Curt looked at Owen with a frown. Owen placed the book to his side and shuffled up next to him, listening in to the call.

“Barb? You’re worrying me.”

“There’s a rumour.”

Curt frowned, confused. Owen froze beside him.

“What?”

“About you.”

“What kind of rumour?” Curt was beginning to get frustrated. Barb’s voice sounded _off_ and he couldn’t quite figure out why. Owen clutched at his arm staring at him wide-eyed.

Oh.

_Oh._

“Barb! What kind of rumour?”

There was more silence on the other side of the communicator.

“About you and… you and Owen. That’s you’re…. _together_. As in, in _that way_.” Curt froze. “I don’t believe it, of course, but some people do. I mean, of course I don’t believe it, you would never do something so-”

“Barb.”

“Yes?”

“Do you know where that rumour started?”

Curt moved his hand in Owen’s and clutched it. Neither dared to breathe.

Neither could afford to panic.

“No… people just started talking about it. But, Curt, you already know how rumours like these are more than enough. Curt… Cynthia’s already on her way to your mom’s house.”

“Oh.”

Owen leant his head onto Curt’s shoulder. Curt thought he might’ve been crying but he was so quiet and still he wasn’t sure.

Curt wasn’t crying. He felt cold and detached. The world moved around him, sounds and light existed but where? Somewhere outside, in the world. But Curt wasn’t outside. He wasn’t inside either. He wasn’t sure if his body even felt attached to him anymore. Things touched him, but they reached him through a tube. Paying attention felt like too much effort.

Owen poked him. The sun had moved. When had that happened?

“Barb…”

“Oh, there you are, you went quiet for _ages_. I didn’t mean to worry you so much… I mean, I’m sure Cynthia will take one look at you and know that it’s bullshit, I just… other people aren’t as _smart_ as Cynthia.”

That did not make Curt feel better.

“Barb.” He squeezed Owen’s hand, looking into his eyes to ask for permission. Owen squeezed back, nodding. “What if the rumours were true?”

“Well that hardly matter’s if they’re not!”

“What if they were?”

There was a pause

“Are they?”

Curt and Owen let their own silence answer the question.

Barb hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry.
> 
> I do actually adore Barb, but this just felt right. Sorry Barb, I love you, I swear!
> 
> Also, I'm not entirely sure how well my description of disassociation came across? I based it off my own experiences but goddamn that is hard to put into words like wtf.
> 
> (also sorry this is short, it didn't feel right having anything else other than the phone call in the chapter)


	17. Chapter 17

“I have a contact who’ll get you boys passports, ID’s, everything you need. Owen, dear, how’s your American accent?”

“It’ll pass.”

“Curt, baby, call Tatiana, maybe she can help delay Cynthia or deal with, what’s your friend’s name? Barb?”

“Yeah, Barb… sure, mom.”

Mrs. Mega turned to Curt. “Baby, I know you’re upset but…”

Curt sighed, nodding. “I can be sad when the shit’s done.”

Mrs. Mega smiled sadly, ruffling his hair. “It’ll all blow over, you’ll see. This is just a… contingency plan.” She kissed him on the forehead. “I need to meet my contact; can you boys hold the fort?”

Curt looked away. Owen answered for him, “sure. When will you be back?”

“A couple of hours at the most.” She pulled him into a quick hug before giving Curt one final squeeze. “Be safe, love you all!” Then she was gone.

She had been a bundle of energy since Curt had told her, haltingly, about the phone call. She had known immediately what it meant, and _no government agency is going to take my son from me!_

The house was quiet without her.

Owen patted the sofa next to him gently, and when Curt didn’t move, he pulled himself up on his crutches and went over to him himself. He leaned heavily against Curt, just breathing in his scent.

“You shouldn’t be standing like this, your knees-”

“Will survive a little bit of mistreatment.”

Curt shook his head and finally moved back to the sofa, gently tugging Owen along with him. They curled up on the sofa, tight within each other’s arms. In a minute, they would need to call Tatiana, but for now they just breathed. Hearts heavy, stomachs trembling, throats tight. They breathed.

The moment ended far too soon.

* * *

Tatiana picked up almost immediately.

“I heard.”

“Ah… well… do you know what’s going on?” Curt fiddled with his T-shirt; he could feel Owen’s nose pressed against his neck.

Tatiana sighed. “Not as much as I would like. I believe Cynthia has already left; I don’t imagine it will take her long to get there, a day or two at most.”

Owen spoke up. “We can disappear if we need to. Has Barb…?”

“I believe she has only spoken to me. I managed to convince her not to speak to anyone else.”

Curt swallowed. “Did she… did she seem really upset?”

A pause.

“I’m sorry, Curt.”

He sighed. He wanted to cry and scream.

How is it he was still in one piece when he felt like every part of his being had shattered. He lay in a million pieces in a body that remained whole. If the cracks couldn’t be seen, were they really there?

He gripped tight to Owen’s hand and blinked away his tears. Owen kissed his knuckles gently.

Owen took the communicator from his other, shaking hand.

“What’s the status with the rumour?”

Tatiana responded immediately to Owen’s tone, adopting the same business-like tone for herself. “As of right now, most people do not believe it. It is being assumed a form of slander. There are now rumours about how the rumours started.”

“And those that do believe it?”

“Not many. People find the idea laughable, so even those that do believe it do not tell people.”

“And Cynthia?”

“I am sorry. Cynthia… if anyone will know it will be her. It is possible she is coming just to ask you herself. Deny it, if you can. I do not know what she knows of you, Owen; I still believe she suspects Curt let you live, but you being there could be… she may take it as confirmation.”

“I’m not leavi-”

“I know. When she comes, deny it, but she might know anyway. You said you can disappear? ID’s?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have an escape route planned?”

Owen sighed. “I can still barely walk; an escape route is… hard to plan. I’ll tell Mar- Mrs. Mega to keep Curt’s car running, but that’s the best we can do.”

“She will be able to track the car.”

“We’ll dump it a ways out; hotwire some poor sods car. They can buy a new one.”

“Perhaps you could wait in the ca-?”

Curt jumped in. “We’re not separating. Not again.”

Tatiana sighed. “I know… sorry. I am sure it will be… fine.”

“You’re not sure of that at all.” Curt took the communicator back.

“I do not admit to anything.” She sighed again. “Call me if you get the chance to again.”

“If not, mom’ll call you. I promise.”

“Good.”

She hung up.

* * *

Curt stood up.

“I’m gonna… I need a drink.”

Owen sat up straighter. “Curt, no-”

“I won’t be gone long; I just need to-”

“Fuck, Curt! You can’t jus-”

“I can’t just what? I need a fucking drink!”

“And I need my _fucking_ partner!”

“Oh, we’re pulling that, are we? Well, where have you been the past four years, huh?” Curt knew immediately he’d fucked up. Owen’s eyes were wide, shocked. “Owen, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

“Sure.”

“Owen, please.”

“It’s fine.”

“Owen, _please_. I’m sorry, you know I didn’t mean that!”

“Do I? Don’t you think I lie awake at night wondering why the fuck you didn’t just shoot me? That maybe everyone would be better off if I’d just gone and die like I was supposed to?”

“Owen, that’s-”

“Where have I been for the past four years?” He laughed. A hollow sound. He was shaking. “Wishing I was _dead_. That’s where I’ve been the past four _bloody_ years.” He furiously wiped away his tears. “You think I would’ve chosen to not be with you, you think I had a _choice_?!” His voiced raised to a shout, almost a scream. “ _I used to dream that you’d come and save me. I did everything for you!_ ”

“I know, Owen, I-”

“Just go.”

“What?”

“You want to drink so badly? Go for it.” He shoved himself to his feet, stumbling slightly at the force, still unsteady.

Curt rushed over to steady him.

“Get off me! Get off _get off GET OFF.”_

Owen broke down into sobs, allowing Curt to gently lead him back to his bedroom. Under the sobs, Curt strained to hear what he was whispering.

“I’m sorry.” Over and over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: hey things suck right now but at least the boys are supporting each other!  
> The boys: do this.  
> Me: wtf why
> 
> This fic really wasn't gonna be quite this angsty I'm not sure what happened...


	18. Chapter 18

Owen stared unblinkingly at the far wall. He could feel Curt’s arms around him and Curt’s breath against his neck.

Still, he stared.

He knew Curt was awake, neither of them had dozed off after his… Even after he stopped crying, they just laid there. Silently.

Curt hadn’t left in the end.

Owen wasn’t sure what he felt about what had happened; honestly, he didn’t feel much of anything at all; just the bone-deep tired that could only hit when there was nothing else left inside you.

He had a headache.

He just wanted everything to be over.

* * *

Curt buried his nose deeper into Owen’s neck.

He wished he could take back what he’d said, but it was too late for that. He’d just have to hope Owen could forgive him.

All that talk with his mum about thinking before he spoke.

He’d done a damned good job at that.

He could only hope he could convince Owen that he hadn’t meant it.

He truly hadn’t. Yes, he’d missed Owen; yes, he’d desperately wanted him back; but he didn’t blame Owen for that, of course he didn’t.

Did Owen truly believe he’d be better off dead?

He tightened his arms around him.

Curt would tear the world apart before he allowed it to take Owen from him again.

He would tear himself apart before he allowed himself to hurt Owen again.

* * *

By the time Mrs. Mega came back Curt and Owen had dragged themselves from bed. Curt had made tea and sandwiches for Owen, curling up next to him on the sofa.

An apology of sorts.

It didn’t fix things. But it was a start.

Mrs. Mega could clearly tell something was up, but she didn’t draw attention to Owens subdued behaviour and puffy eyes; she didn’t draw attention to Curt’s lack of eye contact and lost look.

Curt was grateful.

“Your ID’s will be ready tomorrow.” She sighed, lowering herself onto the sofa next to them.

“How are you getting them that quick?” Curt asked quietly.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answer to.” She quirked a smile and kissed him on the top of the head. “I’m going to start on dinner, you two stay here.” She gave him a _look_. A look that said _I know something has happened and you need to fix it._

Curt knew she was right, but he was trying, dammit! He just didn’t know how.

_Start by talking._

He could do that.

“Owen?” Owen shifted to indicate he was listening. “I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said. I… I didn’t mean it.”

Owen let out a huff of a laugh. Curt gritted his teeth.

“I swear I… It was a dumb thing to say. I mean, I wanted you here of course but I… I know it wasn’t your fault.”

Owen was still silent.

“I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t be drinking. I know that. But I… I never realise who it turned me into. I don’t need it more than you, I know that. You’re more important.”

A quirk of the lips. Progress. Hopefully.

“I’m really, _really_ sorry.”

“I know.”

Curt startled, not expecting a response.

Owen leaned his head back against the sofa. “I’m sorry too, for what it’s worth.”

“For what?”

“I shouldn’t have… pushed you like that.”

“No, it was f-”

“It wasn’t. I don’t know when I stopped thinking before I opened my mouth.”

Curt brushed his head out of his forehead. “We need to stop doing this to each other.”

Owen hummed.

“I love you, Owen; I don’t want to see you hurt.”

“And I you.”

“For the record…”

“Hmm?”

“Things wouldn’t be better.”

“Wouldn’t be better if what?”

“If you’d died.”

Curt could feel Owen freeze next to him. He hoped he hadn’t fucked up.

“I’m really fucking happy you’re alive, Owen.”

Owen wiped away his tears with the back of his hand; Curt pulled him in for a gentle kiss, pouring all the love he had into that one action.

He hoped he could push through every feeling of love, of affection, of _need_. He hoped Owen knew he needed him.

* * *

They ate quietly at dinner, but it was more of a comfortable quiet than what they’d had before.

Things weren’t good.

But they were better.

Curt held Owen’s hand under the table, gently rubbing his thumb on the back, hiding his amusement as Owen struggled to eat with his non-dominant hand.

Mrs. Mega babbled on about a house somewhere up north where they were going to go to figure out this whole mess, but if he was being honest with himself, Curt couldn’t care less.

Owen was far too beautiful to see anything else.

He knew it was sappy, but it was also true.

Owen squeezed his hand.

Then the doorbell rang.

* * *

Life is a series of before and afters.

Different people draw the line in different places.

Even in the fall.

Curt draws a line when he dropped the banana peel. Before he dropped it. After he dropped it.

Owen draws the line when he fell. Before he fell. After he fell.

But right now, the doorbell rings.

Curt draws a line right here. Before the doorbell. After the doorbell.

Owen draws the line far earlier. Before them. After them.

The outcome is the same, but the perspective is not.

A line in the sand.

Humans like to feel in control of their actions; they put the line where the feel the most power, if such a thing is available. Curt finds no power here, so the moment is the doorbell; jarring and new. Owen searches his memories to find his own fault; a moment in time held close to his chest.

And the doorbell rings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure how I feel about the end of this chapter, but it exists so there's that.
> 
> I'm looking forward to next chapter; it's been in my head since the very beginning and I'm only hoping I can do it justice.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Toot toot! It's the angst train! Only 4 1/2 months late!
> 
> Honestly, you can tell I'm British; I model my time keeping skills on our public transport.

Cynthia Houston was a terrifying woman at the best of time; cold and cruel when she liked you, but oh so much more when she didn’t.

The ID’s weren’t ready.

They had no escape route planned.

They were in for a world of trouble.

“Mom.” Curt stood up. “You get the door; I’ll get Owen to the back room.”

“I’m not hid-”

“We can’t get out, Owen! She finds you and it’s over and I can’t-!” He took a deep breath. “ _Please, Owen._ ”

Owen bit his lip. “Help me get back then. It’ll be quicker with you helping me.”

The doorbell rang again.

* * *

Curt left the spare room to find Cynthia standing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by at least 6 other agents.

“Cynthia! I didn’t expec-”

“Cut the crap, Mega. I know your little _friends_ will have called ahead.”

She stared in down, and Curt deflated.

“Yeah, they ummmm, they said there was a rumour about me? Wouldn’t say what it was though.”

Cynthia sighed. “I have always pretended ignorance about that side of you.”

“Wha-?”

“I am speaking, Mega. You think me such a fool that I would never have noticed? I have been fully aware this entire time. But you were a good agent and you did your job, as well as someone with your… disposition could, in any case. But this? This is too far, Mega.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Where is he Mega? I know he is here.”

“I don’t-”

She sighed. Curt didn’t think he’d ever heard Cynthia sound more disappointed in him in his life.

“I would say I am sorry, Mega, but you know I hate empty platitudes.” With that, one of the agents grabbed him and knocked his knees out from under him.

Mrs. Mega jumped up. “You can’t just-!”

“I can just. Please sit tight and we will leave once we have what we’re looking for.”

Four of the remaining agents began searching the house. Curt felt sick.

“Cynthia, please.”

She ignored him.

“Cynthia! It’s not what you think!”

She didn’t even flinch.

“ _Cynthia!_ ”

“Found him.”

Curt felt like he was going to throw up as two agents entered the living room, dragging Owen between them, who was putting up a valiant fight. They shoved him to the ground in the centre of the room, yanking his hands behind his back and tying them together.

Curt didn’t think anyone else had noticed the flinch of pain as he’d hit the floor.

* * *

“Carvour.”

“Cynthia.” Owen bit out. God his knees hurt. Dicks. He tried to smile lavishly. “It has been far too long, how have yo-”

She raised a single eyebrow. Ah, so this is why Curt was always so scared of her. He had to say, he much preferred being her favourite.

“You should’ve stayed dead, Carvour.”

“Yes, well, I’m terrible at that; ask Curt.”

One of the agents brought a dining chair. Cynthia sat down elegantly. Somehow, she was even more terrifying sat down. Or maybe that was just rising terror from the situation? Hard to tell really.

“The question is what to do with you. Do we try you as a terrorist on America soil or send you back to the UK. They did, after all, get the same package as us.”

Owen thought he was going to be sick. He heard Curt shouting in the background, and Mrs. Mega trying to talk Cynthia down, but it felt like he was hearing it from the inside of a bubble. He vaguely noticed Mrs. Mega being lead out of the room by agents.

“If it’s…” he swallowed shakily, “if it’s up to me, then umm, American soil sounds preferable. If it’s all the same to you.”

She stared at him silently. “Our British cousins are rather desperate to have you back. They were very apologetic about never noticing a _sodomite_ among their ranks.”

Owen sat very still.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Curt struggling fruitlessly against two agents holding him down. “Cynthia!” He shouted. “Cynthia you can’t just-!”

She turned to him sharply. “I _can_ just. Don’t think I’m not aware of your leanings as well.”

“I’m not-!”

“You _are._ ”

She turned back to Owen. “Perhaps I could have forgiven the-” she grimaced, “the _sodomy_. But working for Chimera?” She levelled him with a _look_.

“I didn’t have a choic-”

“There is always a choice, Carvour.” She lent forward in her chair. “And anyway, Carvour, the little information packet we got gave us a couple of very interesting tidbits.”

Owen’s throat went dry. He stared at her in horror.

“Have you told him, Carvour?”

He couldn’t breathe.

Curt started struggling again with a vengeance. “Cynthia, stop! Stop it, please! This isn’t fair.”

She smiled.

“He’s the one that told them, Mega.” Curt froze. “He’s the one that told them about you.”

Owen stared at him desperately. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_. He couldn’t get the words out, could barely think, _breathe_. He wanted to be sick, to cry, to scream.

Instead he stared.

Curt shook his head at him desperately. “It’s okay, it’s okay, I know you did-”

“Isn’t it sweet, Mega.”

Curt glowered at her, furious.

“All along, he’s been saying he didn’t want to work for them. But he’s the one who gave them the key to making him a good little _soldier_.”

Owen’s world crumbled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm truly awfully sorry about being so late.
> 
> During the worst part of my life I lost all passion for writing - I still have unfinished fics on fanfiction.net just sitting there because they were being worked on when I hit that point. When I got my passion back I was honestly overjoyed; I was getting back something I had lost for years! Shortly after the last chapter was uploaded, I may have a teensy tiny little breakdown, and I found myself losing my passion again. It hit me very hard and honestly made everything even worse.
> 
> Since then I've been feeling very guilty - I couldn't even look at the comments because I felt awful about leaving this fic behind. I managed to go through and read them all yesterday.
> 
> Thank you for being so kind to me. Thank you for loving this story.
> 
> I finally managed to get back to writing today. I hope you enjoy it <3
> 
> And remember to stay safe! Fortunately, I live in South Korea, so I'm doing just fine; but for those of you that live in the more dangerous areas, please do stay inside and stay safe. Corona is no joke.
> 
> I love you all.


End file.
